The Strength In Her Fingertips
by Roundabout Of Red Roses
Summary: A Post-CACW Natasha Fic. Captured and Injured, Natasha reflects on her past, her relationships with the Avengers - or what's left of them - and whether or not she can find the strength to carry on; if she wants to find the strength at all, that is. After all, she's so very, very tired.
1. Down, But Not Out

Disclaimer: I own nothing, it all belongs to Marvel

Authors Note: I wrote this because I liked the idea of a post CACW Natasha centred fic. I saw some posts about her from the book that was released before Avengers: Infinity War, "A Heroes Journey" and thought about the idea of what could have happened if Natasha had been held after CW by General Ross. I know they didn't have a lot of screen time in Civil War but in the scene where they suggest the Accords, I felt like Ross had a strong dislike for Natasha and imagined what could have happened that caused it.

Just to be clear, I like both Steve and Tony but when it comes to the Accords I am firmly Team Widow because I think she was trying to find a way to show the government that they were willing to compromise and work vigilantly on the idea of preventing civilian casualties but also understood that there were always going to be situations in which the Avengers would disagree with the Government (I mean the tried to drop a bomb on New York in the first Avengers film!)

Like Tony, Natasha understand the idea of holding a guilty conscience of what happens in the bigger picture of a post-world saved but lives destroyed situation and, in all honestly, believes that she has understood it for years. It probably had a part in why she joined SHIELD in the first place. Yet like Steve, Natasha also realises that Governments do have agendas and can sometimes even be infiltrated by those who are trying to cause more harm than good – which was shown in Winter Soldier. She has worked both for the KGB/Red Room and SHIELD/Hydra and both times she was doing the same job – spying and assassinating – because she was told she was doing it on the "right" people. Choosing to put all of SHIELD/Hydra's secrets online, along with her own, was her way of going against these agendas and doing the right thing.

As a result, I wanted to explore how Civil War left Natasha because, while I understand that her life and her history cannot be told through the MCU at this moment in time, I thought it would be an interesting part in her cinematic timeline to tell her story. If I do continue this, I would probably use the story to carry on telling Natasha's story – ignoring Infinity War – and including bits of what I think would forge an interesting backstory of a great character.

 **Warnings: There is varying descriptions of torture, not explicit I don't think, but it does cover varying injuries that have stemmed from this torture. In terms of her mental health; Natasha is not in the best place, her mind has lead her down a dark path and there are a lot of thoughts that, I felt, when writing this, connect to a depressed state of mind. Please don't read this if it is going to cause you any upset or trauma.**

Side Note: Some hints towards Natasha/Steve but not overly strong. In this chapter it could just be a close friendship. If I do continue this story however, they will become a couple. Also, some hints of a Tony/Natasha friendship because I think they could've been friends!

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Natasha was tired. Tired and aching.

She could hear the blood pounding in her ears whilst the cool tiles of the floor pressed into her cheek, creating a numbness that was not unwanted. Being tired was nothing new to Natasha, she had lived her entire life with some degree of tiredness lurking in her bones. When she first joined S.H.I.E.L.D, she had thought that this tiredness was alleviate itself after she had begun to wipe away the red tucked in her ledger yet since the discovery of Hydra and the unravelling of the Avengers, everything had gotten worse.

At this point, all she could hope for was that this tiredness would soon wrap her into a gentle and unending peace. She had been here long enough, surely death wouldn't be too far away.

Her friends were gone, they were either a whisper in the wind or had severed ties with them completely. Not that they could be blamed from the latter, if Natasha had a choice, she would have cut ties with herself too.

Steve had left her behind and Tony had watched her walk away and neither had come back for her.

She knew that this was a very bitter thought, but at this point she had been here too long to give way to anything deeper than her bitterness. For all she knew, at least one of the two parties were looking for her, but her captor had been very clear that she was hoping beyond all sense of reality if she had thought that to be a case. Apparently, the government had reported that she had fled the compound and was still out in the open. They had spent days planting leads and false facts into the air to see if they could lure Steve back into their clutches or catch Tony out on breaking the Accords.

She hated General Ross. She'd kill him if she could.

He'd cornered her in Berlin, she had gone back to help in the rebuilding of the airport. She had wanted to try and do something right before the government had caught up with her after T'Challa reported her for her actions. As soon as she arrived she spotted Everett Ross trying to establish what had happened, he and the CIA were trying to us CCTV and satellite footage to find the feet of which to place the blame. Natasha quickly changed tactic and decided to bite a bullet, most likely one of the nicer ones that would be coming her way now that she had no protection whatsoever, but before she could turn herself in, a cloth had been pressed over her mouth and nose; the smug face of General Thaddeus Ross swimming before her eyes seconds before they closed.

General Ross had always been one of her biggest critics. She had faced a lot of hatred when she had been spared by Nick Fury under the borderline pleas of two of his most trusted agents; Clint Barton and Phil Coulson. Not that she had been phased by that at the time, her job was to be uncaring. If you cared for someone, you may be led to believe that you had a place with them and the Black Widow had no place in the world.

However, it is only a fool who confuses lack of care for lack of attention. Natasha had felt a lot of heat coming in her direction from the US Military and it was a man named Ross who seemed to be at the heart of it. When she managed to get a look at his face, she had felt the gentle pull of something in the back of her mind. It was not an unfamiliar pull, it was one that she had felt before. The sign of a memory that had been ripped from her mind. She gave it no more thought.

There was nothing for her left to give to it, after all.

The next time she had seen Ross, she had been trying to adapt to the newfound sense of freedom that her emotions had given her. She had felt sympathy for him but while the stirring in her gut had told her to apologise, the fire in his eyes and the hatred barely contained under his skin had told her to steer clear. She had, that evening, confided in Coulson about her fears. What could she have possibly done to make the man hate her so much? Phil had told her that he didn't know but that she needed to stop blaming herself. There was a difference, he said, in being a person who chose to do bad things and being a person who'd had their memories altered so excessively that they couldn't form their own opinions, let alone make their own choices. There was a difference in knowing what you were doing and doing what you know. There was a different between being a human and a puppet, your movements defined by the pulling of your strings (and by the tearing away of your memories, womb and humanity, apparently).

Wow, she really had let the bitterness seep in. She would have laughed if she could find the air to do so.

She wondered if that was what Steve thought about Barnes. If that was what he saw in him. Phil had practically adored Captain America and his Howling Commandos, if he were still alive, he'd probably have argued that same case for Barnes. That just because he knew what he had done, that he remembered, it wasn't the same as knowing and understanding what he was doing at the time.

Natasha envied Barnes. She still didn't know what she had done. It was likely that she would die before she ever found out.

Saying that, death was looking more and more appealing.

Ross had dragged her here, to an underground cell – at the Raft, of all places. So close yet so far away from the people she longed to be close to. She wasn't stupid. She had known as soon as Ross had told her just how close she was to Clint, and the rest of the captured "Team Cap", that Steve would get them out. Steve wouldn't allow anyone to be imprisoned because of his actions, whether they chose his side willingly or not; the Steve Rogers that she knew wouldn't leave anyone behind.

Except her.

And Tony, too, she supposed. But it wasn't her place to think on Tony right now, he probably hated her. The consistently fragile trust between the two of them had probably shattered into dust now. She mourned for it, desperately. Tony was probably the only one who understood just a fraction of what it felt like to be the only person walking away from a tragedy alive and unscathed with nothing awaiting you but the eternal guilt that the event you had just walked away from was also caused by your own two hands.

Steve, at the end of the day, would always be able to find hope. He could always see the good in what they had done even if the job came with multiple casualties. She had no doubt that he felt the pain and the grief, of course she knew that she did. Natasha knew Steve Rogers better than she knew anyone else alive, even Clint. Steve, unlike Natasha and Tony, could find the good in anything and everyone; like a birthmark etched onto a soul, Steve Rogers could see your heart and if he decided there was good in it, he would make sure it was felt. That was what he could see in Barnes, he could see that capacity for good, so he would fight for it.

Natasha cracked open her eye and investigated the tiles of the cold floor. The parts that weren't tarnished by aging pools of her blood gleamed in a stark, almost blinding white. Pushing against her body's will to crumble back into the floor and gasp her last breaths away, Natasha sat herself up and leaned her body into the wall, sitting upwards for the first time in days. The opposite wall, also a bright white, tiled monstrosity reflected that which she needed to see.

Herself.

Honestly, she looked like shit. Her hair was mattered and clumped from the blood that had lugged it together. Either from her broken nose or the wound on the back of her head, she wasn't too sure, but she also realised quickly that it didn't matter much now. Her left cheekbone and jawline were varying shades of purple, also likely broken. She had bruises around her neck, now these had a more complex history; they had originated from Barnes and his strangulation attempt, but Ross had thought that they deserved "freshening up" and so one of his loyal brutes had taken it upon himself to wrap his hand around her neck and squeeze until she had passed out. While Natasha had lost all sense of time and didn't know how long she had been here for, it had been long enough that this process had been repeated several times.

She moved her gaze down to her body, her right leg was broken in at least three different places. Her ribs felt so close to being shattered completely that it was either sheer luck or a very twisted sense of fate that had stopped her from puncturing both her lungs in several places. She fortunately, still had all her teeth, but she knew that was only because Ross still had hope that she would become so delirious or desperate that she would spill every secret she knew before dropping down dead.

Unfortunately, this meant that she had bitten her tongue and cheek on numerous occasions and the result had let to a lot of sore cuts on the inside of her cheek and the swelling of her tongue. She could still speak, but it was painful.

Then again, so was breathing. In more ways than one.

Moving on, she noticed that her wrist was dislocated on her left hand (Ross would want a signed confession from her just to further her humiliation – not that he had told her what he wanted from her, or, even, why he was doing this to her, but he was not Loki or Ultron. He was a prick with a lot of power at his feet but his skill in manipulation was sorely lacking. She could read the basics of him even without trying.) but her left wrist was still aching from a break in her earlier days of confinement. The odd angle it hung at was proof of that, as well as the fact that it had not healed properly – it would almost definitely need to be rebroken.

They had ripped her finger nails of when she arrived and had carried on doing so all throughout her stay, they had not been done in a week or two which meant it was coming soon. She was not fazed by this. It was child's play, literally in her case. That had been one of the first acts of torture that she had been trained in. The girls in the Red Room would be paired up and ordered to tell each other a lie or a truth. If the girl you had told your chosen option too thought that you had told her a truth when, really, you had told her a lie, you would be able to rip a nail from her finger in that hopes that the pain would teach her to become a better reader of lies. On the other hand, if the girl opposite you guessed correctly she would get the take the nail from your finger to teach you to become a better liar. The girl who lost all ten nails first, before any other girl in the room, would be killed for she was beyond help. It was only done once a year, for the start of the recruiting. The easiest method to kill the weakest girl.

In her first year at the Red Room, Natasha had lost nine nails before a girl had lost her tenth. After the girl had been killed by her competitor, Madame B had called Natalia to her and told her that she expected better from her. She said that If Natalia wanted to survive and thrive as an Agent for her country that she must learn to be better, in all respects.

The next year, Natasha didn't lose a single nail and the girl opposite her had her neck broken by Natalia's own hands – fingernails coated in a deep red polish to mark the occasion – before the nameless girls first nail-less finger had stopped bleeding.

Pulled from the memory, Natasha looked down at her fingers. Many, if not all were swollen and looked infected. While they had allowed Natasha the privileges of a bathroom and three meals a day – even if she couldn't eat them anymore – the lack of cleanliness in her cell and of herself was becoming more and more apparent. Her body was becoming too weak to keep fighting infections. Even with a weaker strand of super-soldier serum running through her veins, she was still only human, and her body couldn't fight alone forever – and neither could she.

It was here, looking down at her fingers that Natasha scoffed. She was ten fingernails down; shouldn't she be dead by now? Meeting her own eyes in the reflection of the wall, Natasha gazed into her own, almost unfamiliar eyes. She had spent a long time avoiding herself in the mirror. Her whole life, practically. Yet, here, in this cell, where no one else could truly see or know her, she braved the ache in her heart and looked at herself.

Natasha Romanoff.

Whatever she had been, whatever she was. She was here now. Tired or not, she could sit here and wait to die, or, she could escape – because yes, even in her state she was still Black Widow and she could do anything she wanted, that was what Clint had said to her when she joined. She could be anyone she wanted to be, do anything she wanted. She had wanted to be a good person, an Avenger. A worthy friend to Tony and a trustworthy partner to Steve. Together they had all played a part in ruining that, but she could still, at least, accept the good she had done (a more than decent selection, really) and die a peaceful life somewhere she chose to die. End the fight on her terms, which is really all she had truly hoped for in her death.

Snapping out of her reverie, she heard footsteps marching towards her door. Placing her hand in front of her she pushed herself into a standing position. However, just before her hand fell back to her side, she brought it back up to her face.

There, on her left hand, on her forth finger – the only one that, while cracked and sore, looked to be free of infection – was a small, still new and beginning fingernail.

For the first time in what felt like years, she smiled. Clearly her fight wasn't over yet.

A win was a long way off, but a chance was right in sight.


	2. Fight Leads To Flight

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Marvel.

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The door clicked open and Natasha pushed her pain to the back of her mind and brought forward the Black Widow. Instantly, she was back in control of her biggest and strongest weapon; her body. She threw herself forward, crashing into General Ross and one of his loyal dogsbodies. Hearing their surprised yelps, she grinned and quickly pulled them into her room. She knew it was sound proof, the entire floor was. If no one heard the screaming, then they couldn't be brought forward to testify should someone be accused of torturing a prisoner.

To be fair, Natasha had never screamed. She had barely winced.

Pulling the guns from their pockets, the assassin pointed one of them at the men while placing the other one at the waistband on the back of her trousers. It didn't matter that she only had one gun in hand – they knew she was quick enough to shoot them both before they could even try to get back on their feet. It was almost funny, how their expressions were so different from their previous times in this room. An almost sadistic thrill went up her spine. She could finish them. No one would know that it was her, Ross had only ever come here with the same two soldiers – they were loyal to him, they would keep his secret. It would probably have been the two of them that would have gotten rid of her body once she succumbed to her injuries. Then, she imagined, in nothing sort of a pure act of coincidence, it would have been Ross and these two men who would come forward to say that she had been killed, likely trying to capture her. She wouldn't surrender, so they had no choice but to kill her.

While there was only one soldier with Ross now, Widow knew that she wouldn't have to worry about the second. He was clearly new to service – he was probably a son of one of Ross' political friends who wanted their son to be "safe" during his time in service. He wouldn't say anything; it would make him complicit, while they could justify her capture, they could not justify her state. She had been tortured, abused by authority for no reason other than the sadistic pleasure of a man who held a grudge that she had no say in creating. He had tried to break her.

She was made of marble. She could not break.

He could.

 _He should_.

Tightening her grip on the gun she looked Ross in the eyes. Years ago, just after New York, Natasha had the privilege of meeting Betty Ross. She was a kind woman, smart, but in her eyes lurked a deep sense of conflict. Having read the history between Betty and Bruce when she had travelled to India to recruit Banner for the team, Natasha could easily deduce that the conflict was of the internal war between her love for her father and her love for Bruce. As she had never really loved anyone in such a way before, Natasha could not emphasise with what Betty was feeling, but she could note that it took a lot to love someone that had done you wrong. She had loved Ivan and Madame B in her own way, in a way that was deep and dark. In a way that went beyond everything they had put her through. It was the same with Betty. Sometimes, you couldn't help but love the people that caused you harm.

It was twisted, but it was also real.

The Black Widow had made many orphans in her career.

She would not make Betty Ross and orphan – no matter how much of a sadistic bastard her father was.

With her mind made up, Natasha struck Ross and his soldier on the temple in a moved quicker than any lightning bolt Thor could conjure.

Deciding, however, that Ross would not come away completely unscathed, the Widow ripped the plyers from his belt and pulled off one of his fingernails, throwing the now useless nail to the side almost immediately. Tilting her head to the side, she looked at the unconscious men once more before she picked up the keycard from where Ross had dropped it and left the room.

Instantly, Natasha pulled forward and moved the Widow into the back of her mind. There was a time to compartmentalise and this was no longer it.

She stood unmoving in the empty hallway and listened carefully. Nothing. That meant that either she was deep enough into the raft that the entire outside was submerged under water – whether it was just this floor or the entire building she did not know yet – or that the walls were too thick to hear anything.

Deciding that this course of action was getting her nowhere, the red-head moved towards the lift and pressed the keycard to the scanner. Instantly she was presented with the sound of the doors snapping open to reveal a small, unmanned lift. Stepping into it cautiously, while also being sure to keep a foot between the doors, Natasha studied the lift. There were only three buttons.

The first one she looked at was labelled "Secure Floor", the second; "Office" and the third "Hanger". So, it looked like General Ross had his own private lift. No wonder no one had discovered his shady activities. They were probably already aware. Natasha sniggered, what a bunch of bastards. Moving her foot from the doors she allowed herself to step fully into the elevator. Pushing the button that said Office, Natasha leant into the wall as black dots appeared before her eyes.

Well, if she was going to die shortly, there might be some fun doing it in General Ross' own office.

Closing her eyes as the elevator lurched to a stop, Natasha took a deep and painful breath before stumbling out of the now open doors. Ross had a very insignificant office, the same as any other long serving military general. A sturdy mahogany desk, a thick leather chair situated just behind it. On the desk lay multiple folders, all manila in colour and undoubtedly filled with thousands of secrets. Natasha barely spared them a glance; she had enough secrets of her own. She didn't need anymore.

One thing that stood out to Natasha was the lack of windows. While there was no appealing view to be found in the raft, Thaddeus Ross had always struck Natasha as a man who liked to be able to see everything and everyone. Although, being as spy – as well as a woman who had lived and worked alongside Tony Stark – Natasha knew that Ross probably used screens to mask as eyes and removed the windows to make himself seem important, fierce and unapproachable.

Leaning back into the, admittedly, comfy chair, Natasha let her gaze wonder to the computer lurking behind the desk. Flicking the mouse, the screen jumped to life and she was rewarded with an email that, in some sorry-for-the-torture-have-an-easy-escape ex-machina, told her everything she needed to know.

Steve had broken out the other Avengers.

It looked like he'd had help too, if the email was anything to go by. Apparently, there had been a huge flaw in the technology department that had led to a massive security failure on all accounts. Once everything had been righted – a matter that took mere minutes – the captured Avengers had gone, and the only thing left behind had been a trial of unconscious guards.

Well, and herself.

She cursed, wondering if it had been her own mind that had kept her from working out that her freedom had been in reach for a brief second – as well as her team. Then again, she also wouldn't have put it past Ross to have her cell on a separate grid and database just in the name of caution.

Thinking about the technology flaw, Natasha's mind leapt back to Tony. Had he helped Steve get the others out? Had they put their differences behind them? She was confused, last, she had known; Tony was angry that she had let Steve and Barnes escape. Still, if they were all back together it made her heart lighter and, for a split second, allowed her to feel like she could breathe freely again.

The ringing of the phone on the edge of the desk startled her back into the present. She had an escape to complete. Getting to her feet, she glanced at the phone with the intent to end the call until she recognised the number.

It was the number for Tony's office at the compound.

Before she could register what it was that she was doing, she answered the phone and pressed the receiver to her ear.

"Finally!" A familiar voice exclaimed, "I almost thought you were doing something important."

Natasha stayed silent, collapsing back into the chair as the air left her lungs.

"Erm, hello? Earth to Thaddeus Thunder-Face? Are you ignoring me? Look, just because I left you on hold for nine hours doesn't mean that you get to- "

"Honestly, Tony, do you ever stop talking?"

The talking on the other end stopped.

"Natasha," he stopped, pausing again before clearing his throat, "– What the hell are you doing there?"

Before she could stop herself, she sobbed and dropped the call. It was too much, she had to stop. She had to leave, now, and never come back. Find somewhere she could die in peace and do just that. Pushing herself out of the chair she ignored the phone as it began ringing again and practically fell back into the elevator.

Slamming her hand on the button for the hanger, she ignored the subsequent pain and focused on controlling her breathing before she could do even more harm to herself. As the doors opened, she was relieved that Ross had his own private hanger. Noticing the quinjet that she had taken to Berlin, she climbed back on board and signed in. Fortunately, this was her jet, so she knew that she could not be traced by Stark – Ross was insignificant, she doubted he had the balls to try and follow her – who was most likely still reeling from their shared phone-call.

Noticing that the raft was, fortunately, above water, Natasha existed her quinjet before limping to the doors and swiping the keycard against the scanner. Allowing the wind to flow through her hair, she looked out into the ocean and threw the keycard out the doors. Hopefully, Ross would be stuck here until someone found him and issued him a new one.

Sitting back down in the jet, Natasha switched on stealth mode and started up the engines. She never even thought about looking back as she flew away from the raft and all it's horrible memories.

Once basking in the silence of the quinjet and the euphoria of her freedom had worn thin, Natasha checked the fuel gage and was irked to discover that there was precious little left. The thinning supply was certainly not enough to get her far from the US and barely enough to keep her from landing anywhere that wouldn't immediately declare her a hostile and send her back to prison. It was an easy decision to make that she would have to bite the bullet and land somewhere she could refuel.

Reaching over to the GPS, she set her location and switched on the autopilot. Fortunately for her, it was doubtful that after their latest conversation Tony would have anyone waiting around there looking for her. As far as he knew, she was still a hostage in need of some serious backup. Knowing that she would be at the compound in just over an hour, whilst also trying to stop herself from falling into a sleep that she didn't know she would be able to come out of, Natasha set about fixing what she could of the damage done to her hand and her leg.

The decision to do her leg first was easy; if all the bones were set in the right place, the healing process would be swift and simple. Taking her leg in her hand she quickly felt for and aligned the bones in the correct places making sure too keep her breathing slow and steady. Once that was done, she grabbed one of the many braces from Bruce's extensive medical kit – something that he insisted should be included on all jets, personal and group owned after a mission where at least two members of the team (read: Clint and Steve) came home with a broken leg – and secured it. She repeated the process for her wrist and allowed the pain to wash over her for a second before she pushed it back away and took another breath.

If she noticed that this breath was both shaky and shallow, Natasha did nothing to take note of it.

Bandaging her ribs would be hard in this state, especially with the currently poor condition of her wrist. Most of her fingers were too swollen and sore to act with any of her usual nimbleness so the spy decided that she would leave them alone for now. Instead, she set about cleaning the wounds where her fingernails should have been while trying to prevent any further infection. If she could stop any more damage being done to her hands then it was worth the stinging irritation that came with the disinfectant.

Like her ribs, her cheekbone and jawline were beyond her help, so she moved past them and into the tiny bathroom attached to the jet. Grabbing a hairbrush from the small cupboard, she ran some water into the tiny sink before gently leaning her head over the bowl and wetting her hair. Tugging the brush through it was a hard job in her current state but she managed to do it with her left hand alone. Eventually, the water was stained red, but her hair was wet and untangled. She had not forgotten about the wound on the back of her head, but that would need the help of someone else and right now she wanted no further reminder of how alone she actually was.

Walking back over to the main section of the jet, Natasha slumped onto the cot and stared at the ceiling. Trying to avoid falling asleep was growing more difficult by the second. The absence of adrenaline in her system had brought her back to the same feeling of tiredness and despair that she had felt in her cell. Tears burned her eyes and a lump grew in her throat. Speaking to Tony on the phone had made her realise how much pain her throat was causing her; her voice had been raw and sore from disuse and the pull of her vocal chords made her throat ache. Deciding that painkillers would do her no more harm than good, Natasha reached into the med-kit and grabbed a bottle.

Aiming for two pills, she shook the bottle and sighed when several fell into her hand. As she was about to put them back in, she stopped and stared at them for a few seconds, turning them over and over in her hand.

Shaking her head and pushing her thoughts away, Natasha poured all the pills back in the bottle and threw it across the quinjet. She had coped with worse pain before, she could survive this.

Sighing, she limped back over to the pilot's seat and gazed into the distance. It was around ten minutes later that she saw the gleam of the Avengers "A" ahead of her. Bathed in the evening sky, strips of orange and red behind it, Natasha lost herself in the memories of what used to be. While Stark tower held numerous memories of the all the original team, the new compound was a place where nearly all her thoughts contained Steve.

She had felt like a new person, leading the team with Steve. With the pressures of her job at SHIELD gone; Natasha had been surprised at how much lighter she had felt. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy her time working there, in fact it had been quite the opposite; working with Clint, Coulson, Hill and Fury had changed her – and her life – for the better. Just the thought that she had been making a positive difference to the world using a skillset she had thought could only do bad had made her feel lighter. There had been days when she had stared into the mirror and felt proud of what she had done with her day; a feeling she had never experienced when she was working for the Red Room.

Although, to be fair, when she had worked for the Red Room there was no such thing as a "day before". Only a new mission and an empty past.

However, with her new sense of self-worth came notions of doubt – at least they had with Steve. Natasha had been in total sync with Clint and Coulson; they understood that sometimes their job meant living a less than honourable life and, as a result, they could always be honest with each other if their current job was not necessarily what it appeared to be. Working with Steve was different, he only looked at missions as a small-scale way of saving people from greater harm. Natasha saw them as that too, of course she did, but she also saw them as an order. That meant that if she was given a separate, more specific mission, she would follow it.

Fury hadn't given her separate orders on all her missions, barely any as a matter of fact. Yet each time he had it had meant that she'd have to lie to Steve and the longer they had spent working together, the harder that had become.

Steve was a good man. He was honest, loyal and fierce in his beliefs. While at times she had thought that to be infuriating – and she had seen the looks on Tony's face during heated debates with Steve, so she knew she wasn't the only one – she had also thought of it as admirable. Her occupation functioned by the constantly changing nature and alliances of people who had a lot of power at their feet. If the tide turned, then people turned with it, often allowing weaker swimmers to be left behind. Captain America, fortunately, wasn't like everyone else in her business; his allegiances were to people, not organisations, and his morals where fixed. Lying to him had grown tiring and stressful. She didn't want her partnership with Steve to be tainted like her friendship with Tony had been after she had revealed that Natalie Rushman had been an alias.

But she had been given her orders and she would follow them regardless of her emotions. It didn't matter if Steve was one of the few people who looked at her like he cared about her wellbeing, or if he viewed her as more than just an asset to the team – both the Avengers and SHIELD – but as an actual person. They had spent two years working in close quarters together but to try and spare him from being a bigger casualty to her, she had divulged as little about herself to him as possible, yet he still managed to find something in her worth caring for.

After the incident between them on the Lemurian Star, she had thought that had been the final straw. That he had given up on her.

It appeared that Steve Rogers had a thing for lost causes.

She scoffed, those same feelings of bitterness returning for a moment. He had given up on her now.

Not that she blamed him – she'd have given up on her, too.

She felt a steady decline in the pathway of the jet and pulled herself back into reality. Her musings had distracted her from the pain, but she would have to hurry to get herself in and out of the compound before anyone could find her. There was no doubt that whether Tony had stayed behind or flew off to the Raft to seek answers, Friday was already informing him that something had entered the grounds. It wouldn't be long before he would be back.

As soon as the jet touched the ground Natasha was out the doors and limping to the entrance of Avengers private section in the compound. The closer she got, more and more memories pressed against the back of her mind.

Ignoring them was hard, but crucial.

It was time to get to work.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you to those who left reviews! It means a lot and I hope you know how grateful I am. I'm hoping that this chapter is a worthy successor!

To those of you who may have wanted a more action based fight with Ross, I know Natasha could have kicked his sorry arse six ways to Sunday but I wanted to focus more on her thought process and how she does understand that, while he might have earned it after everything he had done to her, Ross had people who cared about him – such as Betty. It wouldn't be a sign of growth for her to just kill him – or wound/torture him – without considering the consequences of who else might be hurt by her actions. She'll find a way to make Ross face consequences but right now she must focus on getting to a place where she feels safe and comfortable.

I think the chapters will start to get longer now. Natasha is going to be faced with a lot when dealing with the compound, so the next chapter will probably be the place where the story begins to be defined in terms of its timeline – remember, Natasha still doesn't know how long she was held for. She just knows that Steve broke out the other Avengers and that Tony is at the Compound. It's going to be a long and difficult road for her to walk down.


	3. Homecoming

Here we get a nice mention of a few other MCU characters. I own nothing, please enjoy.

* * *

Natasha sighed, slumping against the wall, the Compound was as empty as she predicted. The hallways were lifeless and dim.

She remembered the days where music would dance through the halls. Originating from either Sam, Wanda or even Steve, the Compound was always filled with music. Natasha missed those days but looking back was pointless now, there were more important things to focus on.

Dragging her tired and weary body through the corridor, she fell into her room. While refuelling the quinjet was important, she wouldn't get very far in her current state without a little help. After Shield had fallen and many of her numerous aliases had been blasted all over the internet it had been important – crucial, really – that Natasha could find a way to rebuild the damaged strands of her web before they were completely torn. Obviously, she had many contacts that would be willing to throw her to the wolves if that suddenly outweighed the price of their debts to her – it was important that she could show her strength before her entire life collapsed and her enemies began to filter out of the shadows like cockroaches.

Through Matt, May and Hill she managed to set up multiple identities and offshore accounts, registering from everything to online stores, local newsletters all over the globe and community college classes. Setting up missed calls to "family and friends" as well as real-estate agents all over the world had helped make it all seem real; stable, even. She could use what she had forged to help build herself a new web, should she need too; and she wasn't naïve enough to doubt that she would. While she had managed to make it out of that mess unscathed, it was likely that there was another one that would come along. One that she wouldn't be able to escape from.

So, she had done the smart thing; she rebuilt her web and moved forward. It didn't matter whether she wanted it, what mattered was that she would need it.

* * *

 _It hadn't been what she wanted, not at all. If Natasha had it her way, she'd have let her life fall to pieces; Shield was done for, she had been working from Hydra and her ledger was bloodier than ever. What was the point in fighting?_

 _Lingering helplessly next to the hospital bed as Steve was rushed into surgery before being stopped by a nurse and two double doors – as well as Sam's gentle hand on her arm – had been what had woken her up._

 _Steve was out of the fight, Fury was "dead", Hill was just a cog in the machine – she had been on CCTV awaiting the microchip placement, it could be argued too easily that she was not the mastermind of the scheme – and Sam was just trying to fight the good fight, to help make the world a better place. Neither of them deserved to take the fall for what had happened._

 _She, on the other hand, had been in the room where four members of the WSC had ended up dead, all the while impersonating the remaining one. Fury was dead as far as the world was aware and Natasha knew that he had no plans on correcting anyone as far as that was concerned. She had then, knowing that it would cost multiple government agents – Shield agents – their lives, proceeded to drop a nuclear bomb's worth of information about a spy organisation and its employees onto the internet. Thus, divulging government secrets and making the gruesome truth of what had been done to "protect" the world completely available to the public._

 _Then she had set the final nail in her own coffin by releasing the unredacted version of the online file that Fury had on her._

 _It wasn't everything she had done, it wasn't even the worst._

 _But it was enough._

 _A scapegoat would be needed, and it was going to be her. The only other option was Steve and, perhaps, Barnes. She knew that Hydra's file on the Winter Solider (lurking deep within an old Shield server) had been made public, so while he was undoubtedly on the list of people the government would be spending weeks bringing in, there was also a massive internet file containing the depths of the mind-wiping sessions that Barnes had been forced into. He was also a war hero, he had a clean past before he had fallen to his "death"; it would be easy to note the changes that Hydra had inflicted on him through decades of torture._

 _Steve was Captain America, Natasha knew that even if he had been in a fit state to stand trial (if he even lived through the surgery he was in) that there would be nothing short of a riot among the public. What good was it to live in the land of the free and the home of the brave when the country's most prolific American hero would be forced to stand trial for saving 20 Million lives._

 _Natasha was the Black Widow, and the Black Widow was, in every sense of the word, a criminal. There was no doubt about that. Every time she tried to save a life, it was at the expense of another. She dropped three hellicarriers on the city for the possibility that she could save the lives of Hydra's targeted few._

 _A Killer._

 _A Monster._

 _Who could argue with history? It was all written in her file, everyone could see her for who she was._

 _Natasha was many things, but she was not someone who would roll over just because no one else at fault wanted to take responsibility for their mistakes. Hydra had grown within Shield, that much was true, but it had also grown among the Government and the military. They had not noticed and if they had, they had done nothing. The fault undoubtedly laid at Shields feet, but it was a big mess and the debris had landed on some other toes too._

 _She would make sure that the blame was shared. She would take her due, of course; it was the least she could do. For Shield – for what she wanted it to be – and its agents, whose lives she had put in jeopardy._

 _For Fury – who had mentored her; who had trusted her to act in the right way even if it was not what others wanted to do. To follow orders and make the hard call._

 _For Hill – Hill who had not looked at her as anything other than an Agent, just like her. Even when everyone else had looked at her like she was nothing more than shit treaded into the sole of their shoes._

 _For Clint – Clint who had saved what little was left of her soul by doing something as simple – as dangerous – as trusting her and allowing her to decide that she could be more; that she was worth more. Clint who stood unwavering by her side as she strived to do better; to be better. Who never left even when she divulged to him the darkest secrets of her past, the ones that made her want to claw out her eyes so that she wouldn't see the guilt swimming in them every time she looked in the mirror. Or, in a move that frequented her nightmares; the glee that she could get away with it, that she could kill every man, woman and child in her path and still have room for more. That hunger, that pride that she was taught to feel. The hunger that had turned to ash in her mouth and smoke in her lungs and a sense of pride that had hollowed out into the most painful shame. Clint who had hugged her as she cried it all out._

 _For Laura – Laura who had swept her into her motherly arms and solidified her place in the Barton family by taking her hand and placing it on the bump that had replaced her stomach. Life had, for the first time, flourished in Natasha's presence as a small kick moved against her hand. She had not harmed the child with her presence; she had brought a new sense of life to this home; this family. Laura had never wavered in her acceptance of Natasha. Even though she undoubtedly knew the whole truth of Natasha's background; her past. Clint had never kept a secret from Laura, not if he didn't have too. He knew she would accept Natasha for all that she was, so he never hid her from Laura and he refused to let her hide herself. Aunty Nat had been the first person to hold all three of the Barton children after their parents. Little Cooper Barton had been presented to her, quiet and content in the arms of his teary-eyed father, quickly so that she had no room to slip away amid Coulson, Hill, May and Andrew's heartfelt congratulations. Clint had gone from carrying the little infant over for the mandatory introductions to saying a quick;_

" _Here, Nat, take him for a sec." And placing the infant in her arms before turning to hug Coulson._

 _The babe had remained calm and relaxed in her arms and Natasha, gazing down at the newest member of her family, had felt tears burn her eyes as she cradled Cooper. Gently stroking a finger down his cheek, she had felt her heart swell as shiny, new blue eyes looked back at her. Unafraid and filled with so much potential. Her breath had remained stuck in her throat long enough that, after letting Clint move to the other well-wishers, Coulson had walked over._

" _You can breathe, you know." He said, smiling at her in his eternally calm, almost fatherly way. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We all know that you're no danger to him. You need to start trusting yourself."_

 _Natasha let out a deep breath, her lips upturning in a soft smile. "I just don't want to take a risk."_

" _You're not a risk." Phil chided. "You're his Aunt."_

 _She smiled. "Aunty Nat."_

 _It sent a bolt of warmth right to her heart, and she knew that, unlike the other good deeds her name had been attached to – few they may be – that this warmth would never leave. She would always be family to the "Barton Bunch" (as Clint had decreed them all the second Laura and he came home from their first scan). However big this family grew, she would always be a part of it._

 _When she had decided that she would accept the fallout of Shield, she had known it would be worth it because whether she ended up in a penitentiary or not, there would always be a family waiting for her._

 _She had also done it for Steve – Steve who was lying in a hospital theatre barely clinging on to life. When they had found him, lying bloodied and broken on a beach, she'd felt her world stumble off kilter. Everything else she could handle but this was too much._

 _It felt as though her entire relationship with Steve had changed over the past few days; suddenly, he had become an immovable fixture in her life. Steadfast and unchanging._

 _Trusting._

 _Natasha couldn't describe what it meant to her to have Steve trust her. Even though she hadn't known it at the time; Fury, the only person who had truly looked at her moral compass and deemed it correct, hadn't trusted her enough to tell her the truth. He had probably been informed by Maria that she had cried over his body; yet he still couldn't trust her._

 _She had never been called naïve, she understood why Fury hadn't told her._

 _That didn't stop it from hurting like a bitch._

 _It was Steve, Captain freaking America that had looked at her, aware of her different morals and outlook on the world and deemed her worthy of his trust. Although – in terms of her ability – she had done nothing extraordinary; a simple hack and exchange of information that was (as far as he was concerned) nothing more than speculation._

 _He trusted her anyway._

 _His trust had ignited something in her. That deep desire that she had to push away every few years; the desire to run away, start an honest life and live out the rest of her existence in peace. Find something – or someone – worth loving and see if she could live a happy, normal life._

 _Realistically she knew it wasn't possible. Oh, she could leave tomorrow for sure. Try her hand at normality and ignore the world and its problems. It wasn't hard to run away; she was an expert at it. She also knew, however, that sooner or later some face from her past would show up to destroy her and any life that she could possibly have built. They'd undoubtedly make her watch as they killed those she loved right in front of her eyes, burn her home to a crisp and either drag her back to Russia to have her mind stripped away or kill her slowly -_

Flashing back to her room in the compound, Natasha blinked rapidly. That urge to just lay down and wait for death was pulling itself back into her consciousness. She was tired. So terribly tired. Maybe she was wrong; it would be easy to lay down here, in the only place she called home, and just fade away. There was, however, a single flaw that kept creeping up.

Her body.

If Tony was based here now, it would be more than likely that he would walk into her room in search of a clue as to where she would flee now that she had escaped from her ordeal at the raft. He would be the one to find her, or whatever the hell was left of her – she didn't feel like much of a person now.

Still, Tony was her friend. She couldn't do that to him.

Her aching hands grabbed the bed and moved it to the side. Barely remaining upright, Natasha stumbled over to the floor and gently lifted a single square wooden door surrounded by soft carpet. Taking a deep breath, she shuffled over on her knees and reached in, grabbing the handles of a backpack that was hiding in the depths.

Pulling out she collapsed on the floor, lungs burning and a head that was too murky to push all her pain away.

"Um, excuse me, Miss," an unfamiliar voice began, "are you okay?"

Rolling her head to the side, Natasha's eyes met the clear blue and confused orbs of a teenage boy. He had unkept brown hair and an expression so earnest that she felt the same breed of warmth that she got whenever she laid eyes on the Barton children bloom in her stomach. He was wearing a shirt that wouldn't, she thought, be out of place on a teenage Tony; a shirt laded with some clever science pun that she was too delirious to decipher.

"Hey, Miss? Can you hear me? You really don't look good?" He was starting to panic now. She could tell by the way his voice raised. That warmth that she had felt before was begging her to comfort him, but the rest of her felt so numb. Cold, even. Well, her adrenaline really had worn off now.

Her tired eyes began slipping closed when she felt something push her shoulder. It was gentle, but surprisingly strong.

Prying them open, she noticed that the boy was now right in front of her. When the hell had that happened? Looking up, she saw his lips moving frantically but she heard nothing accept the blood pounding in her ears. She had no focus, no strength.

In the back of her mind, she regretted coming back here. She could have just crashed the quinjet into the ocean and gone on her own terms. Instead, she had given into sentiment and returned to see her home once more. Guilt pooled in her stomach, freezing all the warmth left in her. Meeting the boy's eyes, she hoped her own portrayed how sorry she was that she had done this to him.

On a final note of grief, guilt and shame – something that Natasha, personally, deemed quite fitting considering how she had lived her life – Natasha Romanoff closed her eyes, laying still on the floor of her bedroom. A place once filled with unity and family had become her resting place at a time of emptiness and division.

* * *

Confused.

That was what Peter was feeling now. Confused and, if he was being honest, a little bit scared.

* * *

 _He had been waiting for Mr Stark at the Avengers Compound, like he did every other Friday after school, when he had been informed by Happy that Mr Stark had received an urgent phone call. Apparently, he had left the building with Vision almost immediately._

 _It was so important that Miss Potts was on the phone with King T'Challa and Cornel Rhodes was on the phone with some super important military people._

 _Peter didn't really understand it all, but he knew that it was probably best to keep out of it. Aunt May was having a hard-enough time accepting that he was Spiderman. He'd promised her that he would keep out of life-or-death trouble as well as any government business – as to avoid his identity being revealed and stopping anyone putting him in The Raft._

 _Mr Stark had been all up for these conditions but managed to convince May to allow him to be picked up from School – and then returned home – by Happy so that he could update his suit so that he was always as safe as possible when he was protecting the neighbourhood from any danger._

 _Peter didn't know if it was Mr Stark as much as Miss Potts who convinced May. She had one of those maternal, trustworthy looks that Peter knew May appreciated. Besides, Mr Stark did update his suit and make sure he was as protected as possible when he was out in the field._

 _He also allowed Peter to do science experiments in his lab and checked over his new formulas for updated web shooters. – Not that this was a motivating factor or anything, but Peter was pretty sure he had invented a web so strong it would be able to hold a severed boat together._

 _He wouldn't ever need it too; he had learned from his mistakes from before and he knew he needed training that he wasn't going to get until his was older – at least if Mr Stark and Aunt May stayed in agreement. Still, it didn't hurt to be prepared and it was a lot less frightening._

 _It was easy to realise that everyone being so busy meant that he should go home, but Happy had wanted to get stay around for a while so that he could check in on the others – it was his job as head of security after all. Who was he to stop a man from doing his job!?_

 _He had, to stop himself from getting under Happy's feet, decided to explore the compound. Another thing that Mr Stark and May had come to agreement on was that if there was ever a situation in which he was hurt, and she wasn't around because she was working, he was to spend the night at the compound, so they could make sure that he was healing properly. That way, he had access to proper medical care and his identity wasn't at risk at being revealed. Everyone here had to sign disclosure forms and had a hefty lawsuit hanging over their heads if they ever revealed anything serious._

 _This had all meant that Peter was given his own room at the compound. He had, at first, been a little hesitant because there was a part of him that wondered if he had been given a room that had once belonged to one of the now Rouge Avengers. He hadn't wanted to ask Mr Stark because he didn't want to upset him, but it had really thrown him off. Fortunately, Cornel Rhodes seemed to know what he was thinking and assured him that he hadn't been given an old Avengers room. The old Avengers rooms were locked shut. The only ones that remained unlocked where Thor's, Hulk's and Black Widow's._

 _The latter had confused Peter. He hadn't been fully conscious of what happened in Berlin after that very-little-suddenly-very-big guy had knocked him through the air, but he watched the news while recovering enough to know that Black Widow had been declared an enemy of the state and she was to be charged with treason. Apparently, she had helped Captain America and the Winter Soldier escape._

 _When he had asked Cornel Rhodes, he had just said; "It's not that simple. Natasha is never that simple."_

 _Peter still didn't understand, but he left it alone. The door remained closed but always unlocked, and that was that._

 _Accept today it was open._

 _It made him stop, his spider senses alerted him before his eyes did. Suddenly he felt small, like he did the day his parents died but the sense was stronger. Not emotional, nothing – spider senses or not – could make him hurt like that again, but troubling. As thought there was someone in that room who needed help._

 _He walked in and saw a woman lying on the carpet. She looked tired. Almost…defeated._

 _"Um, excuse me, Miss, are you okay?" He asked. "Hey, Miss? Can you hear me? You really don't look good?" She really didn't. He couldn't explain why, she just looked pale but that might just be all the red she was wearing washing her out._

 _He really couldn't put his finger on what was wrong until he saw it._

 _It was what he saw that made his brain stop._

 _Red._

 _The woman was covered in red. Her hair, to her fingers, and all the way down to her toes. She had splints on her arm and leg. Her face was swollen and bruised, and she had blood coming out of her ears._

 _Reality caught up with him. He needed to help her – now._

 _Rushing over to her he saw her eyes flutter closed. He shook her shoulder and looked back down at her; her eyes were glazing over but even they he could see the pain buried in them._

 _"Miss, I'm gonna get you help, okay? You need to stay away though!" He demanded as her eyelids began to droop. "Hey, please! Please stay awake!"_

 _She didn't; her eyes closed, and she went still in her arms. Her blood soaking through her hair onto his jeans. Peter blinked, once, twice before screaming for help._

 _He didn't stop until he felt and heard numerous feet pounding in the corridor towards him._

 _Mr Stark appeared in the doorway, Iron Man suit still on, minus the helmet, so the teenager on the floor could easily notice his eyes were wild and frantic. "Peter, what's going on?"_

 _He stopped, his gaze landing on the woman in Peter's arms. His face went pale and Peter swore that he looked as thought he was about to stop breathing himself._

 _"Natasha!"_


	4. The Aftermath

As usual; I own nothing, it all belongs to Marvel.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed - it means the world! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

To say that Tony Stark was having a rough day was by far a giant understatement. He was currently sat outside the compounds medical bay, slumped into a chair with his mind going at a speed too quick to comprehend. Next to him was Peter, his face a pale white. Looking closer, Tony noticed that the kid's leg was bouncing up and down faster than a bunny rabbit doped up on ecstasy.

"You did everything you could, kid."

Peter glanced up at him. "I didn't do anything."

"You called for help."

The teenager just shrugged. Knowing that there was nothing that he could say that would make Peter feel better, Tony just placed his hand on his shoulder. On his other side, he could feel Pepper lacing her fingers with his own. When he turned to look at her, it was easy to see that the day's events had worn away at Pepper's usual titanium businesswoman stance. Like Peter, her face was pale, and exhaustion had left her shoulders drooped and her back slouched. Grimacing, Tony looked between the two once more before biting the bullet and suggesting that they both make their way to bed.

As predicted, that decision was met with an uproar.

"I'm not going _anywhere,_ Tony!"

"Mr Stark, I don't _want_ to leave!"

Sighing, Tony got to his feet and looked at Peter. "I know you're worried, kid. I get it – really, I do. If anything happens I swear I'll come and get you myself, but your Aunt was reluctant to let you stay _here_ tonight. If I tell her that "here" is the outside of the medical department waiting for the world's most notorious assassin to be revived after she almost died in your arms, I think she's going to start demanding some form of legal proceedings. Or therapy. Or both. Go to bed."

Peter opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. Aunt May would go ballistic if she realised that this was why Peter had practically begged to stay at the tower tonight. Especially as it meant he had missed Thai night under the guise of a "potentially lifesaving suit upgrade". He did feel bad for lying to May, even more so after he had promised to tell her the truth about everything involving Spiderman. But he _had_ to stay here and make sure Agent Romanoff was alright. Even if that meant missing Thai night. While he wouldn't miss that creepy waiter-dude hitting on his Aunt and pretending that he wasn't _right there_ , he would miss spending some normal down time with May.

Also, he was tired. Exhausted, even.

Usually when he was at the Avenger's compound he was always overflowing with stuff to tell Ned – and sometimes when it was just science based, MJ - the next evening but now he just wanted to close his eyes and forget the end of his day until he, hopefully, awoke to better news.

He made up his mind. "You promise?"

Mr Stark nodded, and Peter knew he had made the right choice when the man opposite him looked as though a little of the weight on his shoulders had lifted, even if it was just a fraction.

"I promise."

Peter nodded. He trusted Mr Stark and it was nice to feel a little bit of the anxiety stuck in the base of his stomach lift slightly.

As they watched Peter turn around the corner and head to his bedroom, Tony turned his attention back to Pepper, Rhodey and Happy. The latter two had remained quite the whole time, even thought they had all been there for at least five hours. It was easy to understand, if Tony hadn't been focused on Peter, he would have been trapped in his own mind too. None of it made any sense.

Pushing those thoughts far away for now, Tony looked at Pepper.

"No." Her voice was firm.

If Tony hadn't known Pepper for as long as he had, he would have almost believed her façade. It was his knowledge of her however, that allowed him to see past the steel in her eyes and focus on the worry, confusion and exhaustion that sat behind. The former two could not be helped but the latter could be – and would be if he had anything to do with it.

"Pep, please, listen to me." He pleaded. "If Natasha wakes up and confirms what we think we already know; we are going to have a total shit-storm on our hands. You know how to deal with that better than anybody – you've been cleaning up my messes for longer than you should have been."

He took a deep breath, grabbing her left hand with his own and running his finger over the ring that was living there. "I can't do any of this without you, Pepper, but neither of us are going to be any good at fixing this if we're running on fumes."

Pepper sighed, her shoulders sagging as she put away her mask. She nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

They smiled at each other before Pepper placed a gentle kiss on Tony's cheek and headed out the same way that Peter had gone before her. Once he could no longer hear her heels clinking alone the floor, Tony dropped back into his chair as though he was completely weightless.

Immediately Rhodey and Happy were by his side; close enough to offer him comfort but making sure that the billionaire still had room to move and breathe without feeling as though he was trapped.

The three of them remained in silence for a while as Tony tried to find some fictional ground on which he could offload the thousands of thoughts steamrolling their way through his mind. It was another hour before he straightened his back but instead of his usual – false or otherwise – confident expression, he bore one of confliction.

"What is it?" Rhodey asked.

He sighed. "I need to call the others."

It wasn't what he wanted, he didn't even like the thought of picking up the phone that Roger's had sent him. More than once he had fought off the desire to crush the phone under his feet, stomp on Cap's olive branch and then take a blowtorch to all the individual remains. There were days when he wasn't sure what he was angry at about what had happened in Siberia and then there were some where he was angry about _everything_ that had happened there. On those days, the phone tended to be locked away in one place or another that Tony specifically instructed Friday to keep sealed – even to him. Just in case the day ever came where he would regret strapping the phone to a rocket and shooting it off in the direction of the sun.

Fortunately for him, today (or rather tonight) was the day where his strength had paid off. Tony Stark could be called many things, but he doubted anyone - except for, maybe, and somewhat ironically, Natasha Romanoff – would ever call him naïve. He knew that Natasha's odds where thin; she had been _bleeding out of her ears_ for Christ sake and judging by the state of her, Tony doubted that she had simply perforated her eardrum. By looking at her, a severe head trauma was one of the many things that was plaguing her, she undoubtedly had multiple broken bones and numerous other problems. It wasn't looking good.

In fact, it was looking far from it.

Rhodey, on the other hand, was looking only at him. "The others? As in…"

"As in Cap, and Barton – especially Barton. Maximoff and Wilson too. They should be here." He sighed again, wanting to take the words back as soon as they left his mouth but also understanding that this wasn't about him. "Red would want them here; to say goodbye if they need too."

That was true. Natasha might not be able to say goodbye to them in her current state, but after becoming more familiar with her after knowing her for six years, Tony knew that she would want anyone who wanted to say goodbye to say it. It was a rare form of sentiment – something that was both rare and difficult of Natasha to offer.

Rhodey and Happy were both staring at him as though he had sprouted another head. Not that he blamed them; any conversation involving Rogers and Barnes had been strictly off limits since he had returned from Siberia – aside from the initial "So this just happened…" conversation that was all but mandatory. He hadn't wanted to relive that experience and the pain that had come with it; he simply wasn't ready for it. Aside from brief conversations with Peter, the other Avengers had barely come up at all. All everyone knew was that they were now fugitives and that all their rooms in the compound were locked.

Except Natasha's.

Although, for the first few days her door had also been locked – not that anyone dared try the handle to find out. Initially, Tony had felt the same burning anger that he had felt for her when he had discovered that she had been planted in his company by Fury. He had felt as though he had been played. Lied to. Manipulated. It had taken a few days to come to terms with what he had been feeling towards Natasha specifically, in fact; it had only been when he had taken up issue with the Accords that he had felt his anger with her simmer away. He had remembered what she had said when they had all been presented with the Accords for the first time.

" _One had on the wheel and we can still steer."_

For Natasha, it had never been about absolutes. Whether it was in terms of their freedom of choice or their need to take responsibility for what happened in the aftermath of an Avengers mission, Natasha had just wanted to find a way to save and protect as many lives as possible. That wasn't to say that Tony and Steve hadn't wanted that too, but Natasha had remained unbiased and loyal towards the Avengers, even when it's two leaders had wavered.

And they had wavered. Cap had wavered in his desire to offer absolute freedom. Even when faced with its problems, Cap had wanted everyone to be free to make their own choices. It was admirable; the idea that doing so would prevent another incident like the one that had happened in DC. Roger's had wanted to protect people from falling into the hands of those with cruel agendas, so much so that he had forgotten that there was no such thing as a person without. He had been blinded by his idealism. Tony had thought that there had been something quite ironic in the letter that he had received alongside his phone. Yes, Roger's did believe in people, but he also idolised them. He couldn't separate a man from his actions and in doing so, he had placed the Avengers on the back burner. He would rather have his friend than the chance to save the world. Tony couldn't blame him for that, he knew that he would have done the same if it had been Rhodey. The Avengers, however, needed to be led by someone who would place the public above everything else. For a while, it had seemed as though that would have been the job for Steve Rogers. Yet, even Captain America had wavered.

Then again, so had Iron Man

Tony had wavered in his desire to become checked, to be put in line under such tight restrictions so that he would never take it upon himself to build another Ultron, or to ever experiences anything as disastrous as Sokovia again. He had wanted to stop himself, to protect the world from himself; because clearly even when he was trying to help, he was only creating another problem. When he had heard about what had happened in Nigeria, what Wanda had done, he had felt the same fear grow in his chest.

As a genius, there was a lot that he could predict; he could follow the process of thinking quick enough that he could offer multiple solutions before anyone else noticed a problem – as he had tried to do with Ultron. Wanda, alternatively, presented a problem that he could never solve. He knew that Natasha had worked with her to offer her ways of control – many of which had shown great promise – but with someone so strong, so powerful, there was little that could be done. Wanda would likely grow so strong she could kill half the universe with a snap of her fingers. There was no solution to keep Wanda in control; until the Accords. As far as the Accords were concerned, anytime Wanda used her powers under UN sanction, she would not have to face any legal consequences – she would be free of the blame.

The same blame that kept Tony up at night. That pressed into his chest and wrapped its cold hands around his lungs to test how long he could go without the air that he had stolen from others. That is what he had wanted for Wanda. He had never wanted to keep her imprisoned. He just wanted to make sure that when she left the compound she wasn't faced with a murderous crowd calling for her to be burnt at the stake.

He had, however, allowed his fear to keep him from telling Wanda or anyone else. He had panicked enough that he had let her feel a prisoner in her own home. He had wavered enough that it had been his actions that made her feel like a monster, like him.

Natasha knew that feeling too. While everyone else had been surprised at her decision to back Tony rather than Steve, it hadn't taken long for Tony to understand.

He had not read Natasha's file – well, the pieces that made it to the internet because he was sure that there had to be more – after the fall of Shield in DC. After the first twenty-four hours there had been little need; it was pretty much on a constant loop once she had been charged for treason and multiple accounts of murder. There had even been an hour solely dedicated to unravelling the Black Widow's Web of heinous crimes. Tony had turned it off after the first five minutes; it was a tough watch to say the least.

If he was grateful to anything that had happened within that period, it was that he left it in his past feeling as though he had a better understanding of Natasha. He doubted that he was ever going to completely understand her – hell, he doubted that she really understood herself – he knew that she probably thought similar things of herself that he thought about his own character. He had been, for a long time, living the ignorance of not knowing the faces of those who had died as an indirect consequence of his actions. Natasha had not had that luxury; what was written in her Shield file was all stuff that she remembered. If he had gained one thing from his interaction with Barnes in Siberia, it was that a killer remembers that faces of their victims; especially if that killer had a crippling amount of regrets.

He remembered watching the hearing at Capitol Hill, how Natasha had remained concise and unwavering in her defence of what had happened; in both her past and her future. It appeared, in his eyes, that Natasha Romanoff was a woman who was not going to let her guilt, or any other emotion dictate how she behaved.

When it had come to the accords, Natasha, unlike Tony or Steve, chose not to flinch away from the responsibility or the consequences, instead she place forwards an alternative; obey the command but refuse to be walked over. Act, but act with caution; work with those who offered them a chance, but don't be afraid to push back when we disagree.

She had tried. Perhaps she had gone about it in a poor way, but her way was by far better than either one displayed by Steve or Tony. Natasha had carried on, regardless of how tired she was – and she must have been tired because Tony had only been Iron Man for eight years and he was _exhausted_.

So, with those thoughts in mind, he had unlocked Natasha's door. Every time he walked past it he hoped that she would come home soon. The world wasn't a safe place for her anymore – if it had ever been – and every day she spent in the world alone, she was vulnerable to an attack.

Part of him thought an attack would be better than whatever it was she had endured in the months that she had been captured.

He was vaguely aware of Rhodey and Happy staring at him intensely. There was little argument to be had; they all knew it was the right thing to do. Moving through the halls with a quick request to his friends to remain behind, Tony walked along the empty compound in silence. When he arrived in his office it was without a doubt in his mind that he practically ripped open the draw – thankful that Friday had the sense to unlock it as he arrived – and pulled out the phone that had, until this very moment, lived in solitude.

Staring at the device Tony would be lying if he said his hand did not feel heavier, reluctant, even. There was a weight in his hand that closely resembled that which he had kept buried deep in his chest in the six months since Siberia.

It would be easy, he knew, to put the phone back in the draw and ignore its existence for as long as possible. No one; not Pepper, or Rhodey, or even Peter would question him. Yet the silent loyalty to his friends, and not just Natasha – however much it may have pained him to admit it – stopped him. He could be angry at everyone later and he knew himself well enough to know that he would be, but Natasha was breathing on borrowed time, likely with oxygen that she wasn't able to give herself; he couldn't play God with her moment, whether they did turn out to be her last or not.

As he was about to dial that single number, he heard the loud footsteps and laboured breathing of Happy streaming towards him.

Shoving the phone in his pocket, Tony walked towards Happy.

"Boss, you gotta come, right now."

"What is it? Is she…"

Happy shook his head quickly and if he noticed the deep sigh of relief that Tony gave, he never mentioned it. "Agent Romanoff's out of surgery, they're taking her to a room now, but you said that you wanted an update as soon as she got out."

The billionaire nodded and began striding back to the medical bay. "Did they say anything about her condition?"

"Not yet, they wanted to speak to you directly."

Tony nodded, trying to ignore the pit forming in the bottom of his stomach that told him that they weren't going to offering him anything in the way of good news.

"Has anyone gone to get Pepper – and Peter, too."

"Rhodey went, he said that he'd try to move slow enough that you could get the info from the Doc before they got back."

He nodded again. It was odd to feel an immense sense of relief that Rhodey had been on the same wavelength that he had been on. Especially when that relief was immediately undercut by an intense sense of fear for what was lying ahead.

They continued the rest of the journey back in a foreboding silence. Even their footsteps seemed to echo in a mournful manner, like a church bell at the end of a funeral; each one seemed hollower than the last.

As he moved through the two double doors that lead to the recovery rooms, Tony asked Happy to stay behind as a blocker for anyone else. While the response was only a firm nod, it gave Tony the confidence to continue.

He knew which room she was in, the steady beeping and whirring of machines beckoned him closer and closer as the seconds ticked by on the clock. Usually, machines gave Tony a sense of purpose; he had built his career – his company and his life, too – on what he could make with his own two hands. Yet as the door to Natasha's room become nearer, he felt sicker with every beep that he heard, his own heartbeat feeling rapid compared to the slow, listless beep that sounded throughout the hallway. Every time he thought about stopping to compose himself, he felt the phone in his pocket burn with a righteous fury. It was a sharp reminder that no matter who he was hiding from he had never, nor would he ever, be capable of hiding himself from Natasha Romanoff.

Once he crossed the threshold into the room it was almost impossible to draw his eyes away from her. Red hair lying listlessly on a pillow that Tony briefly wondered if it was possible for a person to have every inch of life sucked out of them and remain breathing. Her face was swollen around one eyes with bruises littering along her temple and down to her neck – which itself was a clear indication that she had been strangled. The fresh imprint of fingerprints compared to the fading ones was a sign that it had been done by multiple sets of hands.

Clenching his own hands into tight fists, Tony forced himself to continue looking – to remember. Her left wrist and fingers were the only parts of her arms and hands that remained unscathed. Knowing that Natasha was left handed, it was easy to deduce that this was because whoever had captured her had wanted her to sign something (be it a confession or a suicide note, he didn't know). The rest of her left arm was in a splint while her right one was resting in a sling. All her fingers were bandaged to treat the infection and his earlier suspicion that her fingernail had been ripped off had been proven to be correct.

Looking down towards her legs, Stark noticed that her right leg had been bolted back together and was currently resting in a sling. Looking at the position of the bolts, it was likely that they were being used to align two parts of her bone back together. Her left leg alternatively was bandaged heavily but looked to be in much better shape than its partner.

Seething in a silent rage, Tony turned to acknowledge Helen Cho as she stepped into the room. While there was a deep similarity in the rage that appeared in her own eyes, she also had an intense look of sadness. Not wanting to dance around it, Tony was quick to open his mouth.

"What are her internal injuries?"

Doctor Cho took a deep breath. "She had a collapsed lung in two places caused by a puncturing of the lung created via bone fragments from her ribs. In total, she has six broken ribs on her right side, which caused the damage to her lung, and four broken ribs from her left. The only reason she didn't die from this is because the fragments were stopping the blood from entering her lungs. Initially, they would have caused intense pain, it may not seem it; but Natasha is very lucky that the fragment only caused a light puncture otherwise she would already be dead.

"Furthermore, a forceful impact to her abdominal area caused her to rupture her spleen. How that didn't kill her, I honestly don't know but we removed what was left before it could create any more damage for her. She's malnourished; while whoever had her in this situation was feeding her, they were likely only doing it in in small qualities on minimal bases. Most likely she would have been getting fed about once a week but only enough to sustain a small child."

Tony had to remind himself how to breathe again before offering his attention back to Doctor Cho.

"Dehydration is also confirmed. We've placed her on a drip so that should be easily fixed. A bigger problem comes from her substantial blood loss."

"How bad?"

"Enough to have us concerned. However, Agent Romanoff's bloodwork is private. It was never offered by Shield and she never gave us the information while she was living at the compound. I don't know how that happened, but it did. The problem is that we can't give her any transfusion until we have her information - just in case she has any blood disorders. We doubt she does but with the amount of damage her body has sustained already we don't want to add any more. Do you know where we can get it from?"

The phone in his pocket burnt stronger than ever. Barton probably had the answer; he'd likely be able to sprout it off at the drop of a hat - and would do if he knew it was in Natasha's best interests.

Barton, however, wasn't here.

"I'm working on it. How soon do you need it?"

"It's not strictly necessary, her body will replace it all eventually, but it might help her recover quicker if she had the transfusions."

"Understood. Is there anything else?"

Cho sighed, her shoulders drooping. "I'm afraid there is. All of Natasha's other injuries are subject to time; that's the nature of healing. However, she's also had a major head trauma that resulting in some bleeding on her brain. We've had to remove a piece of her skull to help reduce the swelling but it's a touch and go procedure. The bleeding has stopped but we don't know how bad the effects of the trauma are until she wakes up…"

The doctor sighed again, lifting her eyes up to meet Tony's.

"If she does wake up."

Despite the lump in the back of his throat he did his best to keep his voice even as he spoke again. "That bad?"

"Natasha's strong, she stands more of a chance than most people of coming out of this."

"But?" There was always a but.

"Her body is in a very fragile state. This process is going to be long and extremely difficult. Her body will be working harder than ever to try to repair itself. Saying that it's going to be difficult is putting it _lightly_. We don't know what happened to her; her mind could require as much help as her body."

He nodded. _That_ he understood; probably better than most people ever would. Natasha had gone through torture before; that much had been mentioned in her Shield file, but he knew it was different this time. Not worse, and sure as hell not better, but different all the same. It was odd, when he had seen Natasha lying in Peter's arms one of the first things he had noticed was how…defeated she had looked. It was as though all the fight had been taken from her. Usually, that would be expected from someone who had most likely undergone months of torture but from Natasha it just seemed wrong. Understandable, but wrong.

From his left, he heard Helen clear her throat. He'd been aware of her listing off her treatment plan for Natasha in the foreseeable future, but he knew little of what all that entailed and with all the unanswered questions and numerous pathways spreading out in front of him, it didn't seem as important as everything that had come before it.

As his eyes met Cho's his awareness was drawn to the weight of the phone in his pocket. "Will she be allowed visitors? They'll be people who want to see her in case…"

She nodded. "No more than two at a time, at least until she regains consciousness."

Briefly, Tony admired the strength and certainty in her voice as she said this. He wished he could believe it, wished he could douse himself in optimism and pretend as though it would be their hope that pulled Natasha out of this. It wouldn't though, the only thing that could help them now would be time.

Natasha had once said to him that she had lived her life on borrowed time. When he had asked her what she meant by that, she had told him that for many years she had woken up every morning and expected that day would be the day she died. Every day she hadn't; she lived and carried on. True to form, he had countered that surely that was her taking back some time, controlling the length of her life for another day until slowly she had fought for her freedom as well. In a rare response she had grinned at him before clinking their classes together and correcting him: she had no control, her life would easily have been someone else's. It was luck. The hourglass was turned the moment she had walked into the Red Room and it had carried on even when she left. The hourglass would empty one day; she could not turn it a second time.

He had, for once, been confused because surely it was the same for everyone. Who turned their own hourglass? Natasha had told him that he was right, in a sense, as no one turned their own hourglass, but the difference was that her hourglass had been turned because someone had wanted to turn it; she was only alive because she had killed rather than be killed. Her time had come at the expense of another's and one day that debt would have to be repaid. Her past meant that she could never have a true future; she could never retire, never leave and settle down. _One day a skeleton will jump out of the closet and drag me to hell, Stark_ , she had said, _I cannot change that, but I can live my life so that some of those skeletons find peace; I can live my life, so no one will ever get dragged down with me._

There had been nothing to say to that, it was clear Natasha had enemies. That was why she had distanced herself from the Avengers when Shield had fallen; she hadn't wanted them to be caught up in the crossfire that she was bound to find herself in now that there was no Shield to protect her. He had wondered why she was telling _him_ this. Of all the people on the team, they weren't exactly the two most known for heart wrenching emotional moments.

Now, he realised, that she had told him because he would understand. He wouldn't waste time in telling her that they could protect her when that might not be the case (he ignored the feeling of guilt in his stomach that was telling him that they could have protected her from _this_ ). They could argue that she was a good person and tell her that she was forgiven all her sins, but that wasn't what mattered to Natasha; all she wanted was to be understood. She had wanted to clear the red out of her ledger, yes, but she hadn't wanted to rewrite the past – she had wanted to make a better future. Just because the first few pages were red, didn't meant that the rest couldn't be clear.

After Sokovia, Tony had understood that, but, in all honesty, he had gotten too caught up in making up for his past as opposed to trying to create a better future.

For a moment, he was glad Natasha was unconscious, she had always been infuriatingly good at reading him. If she knew how much credit he was throwing her way now, he was sure she'd be wearing the same smug grin that she had when she had superglued a Fez to Dummy after he had drunk all her Vodka with Clint.

Lapsing into a moment of sentimentality, he reached over and placed his hand on top of Natasha's. He didn't squeeze it, or run his thumb over the top, that wasn't his style with anyone who wasn't Pepper, but he hoped that Natasha understood that he was there and that he cared.

He stayed there for a moment or two before turning away. "Thank you, Helen. We all appreciate what you did today; I can't imagine it was easy."

"It wasn't," She admitted, eyes tired but shoulders set with determination, "but I'm glad I was here to help her."

Tony nodded. "Make sure you get some rest."

"I will, thank you, Mr Stark."

Smiling slightly, Tony left the hospital room – he would be back soon, of course, but he knew Pepper and Peter were undoubtedly waiting for news after Rhodey had woke them up. Pausing in the corridor just ahead of the double doors, he sighed. The phone in his pocket felt like a lead weight; he wanted to take it and throw it away but he couldn't do that. Not to Cap, no matter how mad he was with him, he knew that he would want to know – that Natasha would want him to know; would want all of them to know. So, thinking of Natasha lying tired and defeated on her hospital bed, he pulled the phone out of his pocket and dialled the singular number lying in wait in the contacts list.

In a few seconds the dial tone stopped.

" _Tony?"_


	5. Actions Have Consequences

Another chapter! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, I was a bit lost with this chapter as I wanted to get everyone on Team Cap back to the compound asap so that the story could continue so sorry in advance if this chapter is not my best!

As usual; I own nothing!

* * *

There was a tense silence among the quinjet. No one knew quite what to say and as a result, they said nothing. It became clear enough after a few hours that while silence wasn't exactly the enemy of this fight, it was certainly not an ally; yet none of the many occupants of the jet could leave their thoughts enough to even try and strike up an empty conversation.

At the helm of the quinjet sat Hawkeye, aka; Clint Barton. While the jet was more than capable of acting on autopilot, the archer could not find the strength to leave this journey to any GPS or sentient A.I. Instead he felt as though this was a trip that he had to make with his own two hands, so that he knew they would all arrive safely at their location without any external interference. Trusting his hands to know the way better than his drifting mind, Clint allowed his eyes to wonder over to the left of him. Catching the eye of Sam Wilson, the two men shared a concerned look as they looked at the weary Captain – or once Captain – slumped defeatedly in a chair.

Usually, Steve Rogers was an unmovable force in only a figurative sense, but his listless body and ashen face gave him the appearance of a forlorn stone, he seemed to be so still that all signs of life came only from his deep intaking and exhaling of breath – which seemed to be acting more like a coping mechanism rather than anything else, there was no life in him; just a sense of defeat and a deafening shame.

Clint knew the feeling, he had sat by Natasha's hospital bed more than anyone else. Threw burns, torture, broken bones and fractured minds; the two of them had never been far away from their injured counterpart. When he had taken some time away from Shield, after Loki and the battle of New York, Clint had worried that Fury would either start sending Natasha back out alone on a full-time basis. He had also worried that if that was not the case, she would end up partnered with someone who would be completely indifferent to the Black Widow's injuries; and while that probably suited Natasha, Clint (and Laura) Barton would be dead in the ground before he allowed the red head to start allowing back a blatant disregard for her own life.

When Natasha had first been brought to Shield, her idea of redemption seemed to be synonymous with the idea of dying for a "good" cause, or, as Clint preferred to see it, _acting like human cannon fodder._

Eventually, through general care and multiple stern warnings to bench her from field work completely via Coulson, Fury and Hill, as well as multiple chats with May, her therapist husband; Andrew, and Laura's trademarked glare, it appeared Natasha had finally started having some general regard for her life.

That was an easy maze to lose himself in, so Clint had made it his policy that every time Natasha fell, he would be there by her side to help her climb back up to the top. That meant sitting by every hospital bed making sure she knew how glad he was to see her up and conscious before informing her that any period of R&R would be served at his farm with their family; all of whom were just as excited to see her.

That had been natural to them both for years; he had worried when he had retreated back from Shield after Coulson had died and Loki had taken a demolition ball through his mind, that Natasha might also struggle more than she was letting on but she had told him to get over himself before literally dragging him by his ear to Fury's office to request some time off. _"Now go spend some time with Laura and your kids, Barton. I'll come visit when I can."_

When she had sauntered through his front door two weeks later and announced with a raised eyebrow that she had been partnered with Steve Rogers and was now deputy of an entire S.T.R.I.K.E team; he'd be lying if he said he hadn't had mixed feelings.

Firstly, who the _hell_ needed a S.T.R.I.K.E. team that was more than three people? How was a team of that many going to get any actual _spying_ done? Where they going to break into a flash mob to create a distraction _? Where's the practicality, Nat?_ To which Natasha just rolled her eyes and said that not everyone could be as efficient as Strike Team Delta had been. Caught in their memories, they had raised their glasses in a silent toast to Coulson before he moved on to his next point.

* * *

" _Captain America, Nat? Really?"_

 _The red-head opposite him shrugged. "He has the best skills out of everyone else. I need someone who's going to watch my back and trust me to watch theirs. Who else is going to do that?"_

 _Clint thought for a moment. "What about Bobbi? Or May?"_

" _May doesn't do field ops anymore, not after Bahrain; she's in administration now; she barely does any piloting. Besides, I'm not making her go back when she isn't ready, Clint."_

 _He nodded, he had seen what the aftermath of Bahrain had done to May. After his time spent under Loki's mind control, he knew a little bit of what it was like to question the risks of the job, he could understand why May had pulled back. Natasha was right._

" _Bobbi?" He tried._

" _Is great, but if I spend any more time hearing about her ex-husband, I might end up choking her to death mid-mission and that's a lot of unnecessary paperwork."_

 _He laughed, Bobbi's divorce to an ex-mercenary was a large focal point of complaint in her day-to-day life, even now that they had been divorced for about six months. It wouldn't be so funny however, if Clint and Nat didn't know Hunter and hadn't spent about six weeks of an op in Beijing hearing pretty much the same stories of how much of a "raging she-devil" Bobbi was._

 _By the seventh week the humor had long worn off, it was easy in hindsight to see why Natasha might not want to do that again._

" _Fair point." He agreed. "But why Cap? I didn't really get the vibe that he was ever cool with the whole spy-thing and, no offence, Nat, but you're like the definition of a spy. You're the spy."_

 _She rolled her eyes, refusing to take offence where others might find it because Clint had never offered her an unkind word; despite however much she might have earned it. "I don't think he is, I just think he wants to do some good and I think he knows that he stands a better chance of doing it at Shield then he does if he goes back into the Army."_

" _You mean because Shield has finally told him that Peggy Carter is alive, and he knows that she founded it alongside Howard Stark, right?"_

" _Right," she paused again, "plus Fury wants me to help him integrate back into the world."_

" _How are you supposed to do that?"_

" _No idea," opposite him at the table, he could see her eyes cloud over as her brow furrowed, "to be honest, I think he thinks that I have some sort of idea what Cap's going through."_

" _But you think you don't?" He queried._

 _Natasha nodded, keeping her eyes away from his. "I don't know what it's like to have something in my past to miss – to hang onto. I was so angry about it all, Clint. I could have set fire to the whole of Russia and not blinked and eye. That was who I used to be; sometimes I think it's still who I am. I don't think I want him to be like me, Clint. I don't think I'd want that for anyone."_

 _Suddenly, everything clicked in Clint's head; Fury had partnered Natasha with Rogers because he wanted them to learn from each other. While he'd have pitched it to Nat as her helping Cap find his feet in the modern world, it was natural that the Captain would do the same for her. He'd help her find and appreciate her worth. Not that Natasha needed anyone to tell her how great she was – she knew that she was good at her job – but she'd spent a large part of her life being victim to the choices and speculation of others. While it was likely that Cap wouldn't appreciate what Natasha may have done in her past, she could see the world clearer than most people and a damn good agent. He wouldn't focus on her past; he'd just help her feel comfortable in her present._

 _To Clint, that was the best possible outcome._

 _Not that he would tell Natasha any of that. This was something she needed to figure out for herself. Reaching over, he placed his hand on hers and smiled. "Hey, if you ever want to escape you can always come here. Just give the guy a chance, Nat. The chances are you'll be kicking more ass than ever – hell, we both know that you're going to beat that S.T.R.I.K.E team into shape whether they want it or not. Add to that Caps intense knowledge of military drills and you'll be able to kick back and relax come any ops. Just make sure that the old guy doesn't break a hip once he defrosts properly."_

 _Natasha's lips twitched as she tried to supress a grin. "Careful, if Laura hears you, she'll make you apologise for being so mean to a National Icon; you need to teach your children to respect your elders, Clint."_

 _They both laughed a little before the mood sobered again. "He's a good man, Natasha. Fury wouldn't have partnered you with him if her didn't think you were the perfect woman for the job."_

" _I know."_

 _She squared her shoulders and within seconds, she was back to be her usual strong self. It wasn't a mask; he knew that much. Natasha didn't have masks in her personal life, she had faces; she had once told him that she had spent so long being without a personality but constantly having to pretend to have multiple ones that sometimes, when she was trying to be herself, she changed – like flipping a light switch. She had to match her personality and expressions to her emotions. After spending a long time coming to terms with it, Clint recognised that she was merely telling him that she was feeling much more confident than she had ten minutes previous._

 _They spent the rest of their time in a comfortable silence until the sound of a car pulling up towards the house reached their ears. Again, Natasha's posture changed as her entire form softened and a gentle smile strung lights together at the heart of her eyes. Standing, she looked over to him._

" _Coming?"_

 _He smirked. "Not today, I don't want to stand to the side-line as my kids reject me in favour of their Aunt." He took a long sip from his beer as the sound of the car pulled to a stop. "But by all means, go and remind my children of how boring a Dad I am."_

 _Natasha didn't need telling twice and almost sprinted out the front door._

 _As he watched her leave, Clint could only hope that her new partnership brought her a new sense of life the way their previous one had given this entire family._

 _If not, well, he would happily win the award for uncoolest Dad of the year for beating Captain America's ass back to the 1940's._

* * *

Sighing, Clint looked back at Sam and shrugged his shoulders; this was a situation that couldn't be helped until they arrived back at the compound and even then, he really doubted that anything would get better.

Steve hadn't said much since he had answered the phone call back in Wakanda. Although they had moved on from there a month or two ago, King T'Challa had been gracious enough to offer them reprieve there should they find themselves in need of it. Their previous mission had been successful but tiring and both Clint and Scott had felt an unrelenting need to see their families, so they had all retreated to Wakanda for some rest, recuperation and two long and emotional Skype calls.

They had all been gathered together to outline plans for their departure in the next two days when the phone that Steve kept consistently in his line of sight had started vibrating. Almost immediately, Cap had shot up and crossed over to where the phone was, a slight fumble the only sign that he was as tense and nervous as they all were.

That had been when everything had changed. In the few minutes Steve had left to talk to Tony in private, they had all wondered about what it could be. What had come along to threaten the world enough that Tony Stark had reached out across the unspeakable void and called Steve Rogers?

It turned out that it hadn't been something threatening to tear the world apart as it was something that would tear _their_ world apart.

As soon as Steve had uttered to them the terrible truth, they had jumped into action. Clint could barely remember what had led him to this moment, but he knew that he had practically _begged_ T'Challa to send someone – anyone – to Laura and the kids. He needed someone he trusted to be there for them; to break any news that he couldn't. T'Challa had agreed instantly before stating that he would be joining them at the compound in a few days in order to remove any suspicion towards Wakanda for hiding potential fugitives. Looking across the sky and towards the direction of the slowly rising sun, he sighed again.

"Are you quite alright, Agent Barton." Vision asked, Clint figured that he must look as worn as he felt if a sentient android could tell that he was struggling.

"Not really," it was truthful, everyone knew that he was struggling so there was no point in lying, "I just want to get to the compound as soon as possible."

"I understand. I know that you and Agent Romanoff have a cherished kinship."

He smiled. Whatever else had happened in the fallout of the Accords, he and Nat had always – and would always – have their friendship. That would never change regardless of whether they agreed or disagreed; Natasha had said it herself, regimes fall everyday – but that didn't mean that their friendship had to fall with it.

Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled at Vision before allowing another moment of seriousness fall between them. "How's Wanda?"

"To be honest, Agent Barton, I believe she is taking the news with a great sense of difficulty."

That was easy to believe, Clint had never spoke with Natasha about Wanda specifically, but he knew that she had taken it upon herself to help train and strengthen Wanda and her powers in whatever way she could. Control was Natasha's speciality and from what he had seen of Wanda's powers from the falling of the Avengers, she had improved greatly.

Plus, he had seen Natasha give Wanda the same look she gave his kids. That look of complete pride in someone that you absolutely believed in – not that she would admit it; sentiment was rarely her style.

Vision followed his gaze and continued. "In truth, I believe that Miss Maximoff – Wanda – has her own sense of kinship with Agent Romanoff that had led her to take the news quite badly. I worry that she has been reminded of her previous losses."

Clint agreed, that also made sense. Wanda seemed to notice their unsubtlety as she made her way over from the far end of the quinjet before sliding into the co-pilots seat.

"You don't have to talk about me like I'm not here." She stated, frowning.

"My apologies, Miss -" Vision stopped at the sight of her raised eyebrow, "- Wanda, we did not mean to upset you. We are merely concerned."

"And we're going to stay concerned if you don't tell us what is going on in your head." Clint added because maybe _someone_ should gain a sense of emotional clarity on this journey and it was probably best that it was the woman who could tear a dozen robots in two when faced with great emotional strife.

Wanda met his eyes in either a silent refusal or challenge, but she was quick to relent – apparently his signature Dad look was finally coming in useful. "I like Natasha."

"Don't we all?"

"Yes, but what I mean is that I feel as though I…understand her."

Wanda rolled her eyes as two blank faces looked back at her. _Natasha_ would have understood what she meant. "What I mean is that when I invaded her head during the fight with Ultron, I couldn't understand her; I found her confusing. The inside of her head made no sense to me; there was just a lot of pain and a strong desire to do good."

He grimaced. "Sounds about right."

"Even her past made no sense to me – there were numerous jumbled up memories. I only pulled forward a few and even then, they were not complete – there were bits missing, I mean. Not from time, or repression, but it was as though they had never existed." Wanda looked confused but continued anyway. "I understood nothing, but I had no regard for her; so, I did not care."

Clint nodded. They had never really found a definite answer as to whether the Red Room had simply erased Natasha's memories or just replaced them – or even anything beyond that. "Well, let's just say that Hydra weren't the only ones trying out theories on mind-meddling."

Wanda's features moved to show her understanding but she neither asked nor stated anything more; they both knew that Natasha was notoriously private about her past. Whatever came out about her life had to come from her – it just felt like a breach of trust otherwise. Even Vision seemed to recognise the taboo of the subject as he inclined his head in a sign that Wanda was free to continue with her original point.

"When I lost Pietro, I felt as though my heart had been ripped from my chest; all of a sudden the person who had the deepest understanding of me was gone." Noticing the guilt on Clint's face, she reached out and put a comforting hand over his. "I do not hate his choices, nor do I hate the outcome; I just missed him so deeply it became a pain greater than any physical wound. I could not cope, I grew to fear myself and my powers – there seemed to be no way to gain control without my brother by my side."

There was a break as Wanda inhaled deeply. In response, Vision placed his hand on her shoulder and the young woman relaxed, her whole body seemingly absorbing whatever strength had just been offered.

"I spent many nights awake, fearing that if I slept, I would have no control over my powers. I was scared that I would destroy the building if I so much as closed my eyes. If I could not fight the urge; I would steal sedatives from the medical bay and use them to give myself a peaceful sleep. After a few months, there were a few whispers that things had been going missing and Natasha came to me."

Clint was shocked. Nat had never suggested that there had been any problems with Wanda's adjustment after the remaining (and new) Avengers had relocated to the compound. At this point Pietro had been dead for about three months and, in the presence of the team, Wanda had begun to appear as if she was coming to terms with her grief. "What did she say?"

"She told me that Pietro was dead and that I was alive and there was nothing I could do about it."

 _Well,_ Clint thought _, it seemed Natasha was still as tactful as ever_.

"Natasha told me that the best thing I could do was, instead of fearing my powers and hiding my pain, was to use them to make me stronger; I could protect those who could not protect themselves. I still had a life; I could use it to help others."

* * *

 _Wanda scowled, glaring at the red-head across from her. "Who are you to tell me what to do? You have no idea how I feel!"_

" _I don't know how it feels to lose a brother, no." Natasha admitted, ignoring the girl's glare and moving over to sit next to her. "But I do know what it's like to be broken by a pain that you know will never go away."_

 _There was a truth in her words, Wanda knew that much; she had seen the inside of Natasha Romanoff's head and it was a troubled place. Yet the way she felt right now; she doubted that there would ever be a freedom to be found from that._

 _She wanted one though, she was desperate for some form of relief._

" _How do you cope, then?" She asked, her voice cracked and heavy with tiredness. "I feel like I will never be able to sleep peacefully again. I feel as though every breath that I take is an aftershock of pure agony."_

" _That's because you're giving your brother too much credit." Despite the red glow that seemed to grow behind Wanda's eyes, Natasha continued. "He was a part of you, yes, and he always will be whether his is living or dead – but he is not who you are. No one gets to decide who you are but you. It isn't Pietro's death that is stopping you from sleeping. It isn't grief, or pain, it's just you. You're struggling, Wanda. You've lived a life defined by other people; your parents, Von Strucker, Ultron, and now you're letting Pietro define you when all he would have wanted is for you to live a life for yourself. To find a freedom and a strength from life that you were both deprived of when you were way too young."_

 _There was a moment of silence until finally, Wanda sobbed. Within seconds she was wrapped in Natasha's arms and she did not know how long she stayed there. It was in the presence of the Black Widow that she sobbed, cried, blubbered and eventually fell asleep – and not for one second did she feel judged or weaker for it. In fact, as she drifted into sleep, all she felt was safe and, for the first time in months, a flicker of peacefulness from the back of her mind allowed her body to relax and she fell into a restful slumber._

 _When she woke in the morning, her eyes were sore but there was none of the usual drowsiness that she would have felt had she taken her sedative. Instead, as she looked around, she noticed that her room had not been destroyed and the compound was still standing. The only difference was Natasha, sat beside her bed in a chair while holding her phone in her hands._

" _How are you feeling?"_

" _I…I feel okay, I think."_

 _Natasha raised her eyebrow._

" _I feel better. Not okay; but still better."_

 _This was the first morning where waking up hadn't felt like the worst part of her day; the pain of Pietro's loss was still there, and she was still deep in her grief, but there was a sense of understanding now; a sense of control over her future as well as a deep potential for a new understanding of happiness._

 _Looking back at Natasha, she was met with a small grin. "Better is – believe it or not – a good place to start."_

 _It felt like it too. There was a sense of possibility now. Wanda may not be able to turn back time, but she could still enjoy the time she had in front of her. Catching a look at the photo on her bedside table however, the world seemed to grow duller as the pain in her chest increased. As a great wave of heartache washed over her; Wanda made the choice to throw herself a lifeline._

" _Does the pain ever go away?"_

" _No," Natasha admitted, her own face taking on a strong look of sorrow, "but you can still feel pain – you can still grieve – and find a way to live your life. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't. Pietro brought great happiness to your life. He was a part of you in a way that no one ever will be; we have a connection with our blood that never goes away, but you can still make other connections that are just as cherished. If remembering Pietro – someone who gave you strength and protection and love – makes you anything other than happy – if it makes you so deeply unhappy that you stop living your life – then maybe, after a certain point, you have to try to remember him in other ways."_

 _On that note, Natasha smiled and turned to show Wanda her phone. The screen depicted a video of the newest Barton baby – Nathanial Pietro – crawling along the floor of the farmhouse from his mother's feet to those of his cooing father. The caption at the bottom of the video read; "Six months and crawling already; this guy's gonna be a speed-demon just like his namesake! Best start bringing your A-game, Romanoff; there's still time to change his birth certificate."_

 _This time the tears that reached Wanda's eyes were that of joy. Perhaps Natasha was right, she could try remembering Pietro in happier ways; in ways that reflected who he was. He had given his life so that Agent Barton could save a child, and, unbeknownst to Pietro at the time, continue to be a father to his own children. Wanda, no matter how much she grieved her brother, could never hate anyone for that; she would only ever be proud of what Pietro had done that day._

 _She turned to Natasha. "Better ways, yes?"_

" _Better ways."_

* * *

"After that day, I felt as though I understood Natasha, I knew what she meant when she talked about turning her losses and her pain into a motivation; a chance to do some good."

"And you have done." Vision said, smiling at her.

"I would like to think so, but I don't know what would have happened if it had not been for Natasha. She pulled me out of an all-consuming darkness, I regret that I was not there to do the same for her."

"The last thing Natasha would have wanted would be for you to put yourself in danger."

Once again, Wanda's expression turned solemn. "I know, but to think of her alone…"

"I know." Clint said, firmly. "Trust me, I do. There's nothing that we can do which will change what's happened. All we can do is get back to the compound and be by her side."

"Indeed. It should probably be noted, Agent Barton, that we are five minutes out from the confirmed landing point." Vision stated.

From his position, Clint saw Steve's head jerk upwards; the first sign of movement from him this whole journey. Seeing his moment, Clint spoke.

"We're five minutes out, Cap. What did Stark say we should do when we get there?"

There seemed to be a delay period as Steve blinked three times before opening his mouth. "We need to park the jet in the trees just behind the compound and then enter through the Avengers quarters – Tony said that he'll meet us in the common room before taking us to the med bay. He wants us to be briefed on Na- on her condition before we see her."

Ignoring his refusal to speak Natasha's name, he proceeded.

"Did he mention anything on how _Natasha_ was doing when he was on the phone?"

Steve shook his head and Clint didn't bother to acknowledge the eyebrow Sam had raised in his direction. "He just said that we should get there as soon as we could."

Deciding not to push the matter any further, the archer decided to focus on landing the jet as the treeline behind the Avengers compound became more and more prominent. He could practically feel the nervous tension emitting from his teammates as he shut down the engines and opened the doors.

Although there was five of them in the jet – Scott was going come in miniature with T'Challa in a few days' time as he didn't feel as though he had any place by Natasha's bedside – none of them seemed to be able to move. Finally, with a sigh and an eyeroll that wouldn't have been out of place on the woman that they had travelled across the world to see, Wanda began to walk out of the jet with Vision following close behind. Instantly the spell seemed to be broken and both Clint and Sam moved with the intent to follow, yet the latter stopped when he realised that the Captain wasn't following.

Gesturing for Clint to carry on with Wanda and Vision, Sam walked back towards Steve. "C'mon, Cap. Natasha need us; she's gonna want to see you."

"I left her behind." Steve whispered, his voice cracking. "I knew that she would be in danger, I knew that she would be hunted, and I still left her behind."

"You thought that she'd find us. We all thought that Natasha would be the one to slip through the net, no one could have predicted this." Sam argued.

"We could have, I could have. I knew that she was in danger; she had spent years on the run after Shield fell. The accords were different; suddenly it was governments and military after her, not just old organisations that had to capture her in the shadows. She would have been in danger wherever she went, Sam. I knew that, and I left her behind anyway."

Suddenly, Sam understood. "You feel bad that you stayed with Bucky and the team when she was on her own."

"It was Natasha that told me that staying together was more important than how we stayed together, and she was the person who ended up losing everything."

"Don't think for one second that Natasha didn't know that was possible. She made her choices because she thought they were the right ones; we all did, and we can't change that. Now, no one's denying that Natasha got the shit end of that deal but what we do know is that sitting here feeling sorry about choices we didn't make won't change what's happened to her."

Steve nodded, and Sam was pleased to know that his words seemed to be getting through. "Look, man, I know that there's a lot going on between you and Natasha and I'm not going to pretend that I have any idea how she's feeling. Right now, though, she's clearly in a bad way and we need to be with her. So, with all due respect, Cap, get your ass out of this quinjet and into that compound."

The blond choked out a laugh before moving in the direction that Sam was pointing. "Thanks, Sam."

"Anytime, man. Now put that super-soldier speed of yours to good use!"

* * *

By the time they arrived in the compound, Wanda, Clint and Vision were all waiting for them by the door.

"Everything alright?" Steve asked.

"Shouldn't we be asking you that?" Clint replied, "It's all good on this end; we just wanted to make sure you were good before we moved on."

"I'm…coping." The soldier admitted before moving so that he was walking ahead of the other members of the team. "Let's go."

Together they walked through the halls and into the common room were Rhodey and Pepper were waiting for them. The mood was awkward to say the least, no one knew quite what to do or say. Eventually after a few painful seconds of silence, Sam moved forward.

"Hey, man," he said, walking towards Rhodey, "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what happened in Berlin."

Rhodey waved his had dismissively. "I don't blame you, Sam. I never did. There's a lot of blame that can be thrown around about what happened in Berlin, but I don't think that anyone is to blame for what happened to me. I'm sorry if you've spent the last few months thinking that I blamed you."

The two embraced, uncaring of the uncertainty that was radiating off the others in the room.

"Besides," Rhodey grinned, pulling away from Sam, "I know you were scared that I would outfly you; it's cool, we all have our insecurities."

Sam stood straight but before he could reply another voice interrupted him. "As hilarious as the following argument might be, I'm going to interrupt because, well, I want to."

From the corner of the room came Tony Stark. Coffee in hand and decked in his usual suit and sunglasses, it would have almost appeared as though no time had passed at all if it wasn't for the way he avoided all the eyes in the room that didn't belong to Pepper or Rhodey as he walked towards them.

Finally, after placing his hand in Pepper's and taking any strength that she was offering him, Tony turned to Steve.

"Rogers."

"Tony."

Again, there was silence.

Pushed to the edge by tension and nerves, Clint intervened. "Look, I know that there's a lot to say here, and I know that it's all really important. Okay? I get it, I do. What's also important, to me, anyway, is to find out how Nat's doing and what the hell happened to her? So, can we please, please, focus on that before we get into all," he paused, gesturing between Steve and Tony, "this."

Silently, the two men in question seemed to broker a peace treaty – for the time being anyway. With said treaty in place, the tension in the roomed seemed to half; the rest being a cumulation of nerves and uncertainty over the welfare of their teammate.

"Right," Tony said, looking at all the rouge Avengers – and of course, Vision, who was not so much rouge as occasionally missing for increasingly long periods of time. "I'm assuming you all know that Natasha is currently a pretty intense feature in our med-bay, correct? Well, to put a long story short, yesterday she arrived at the compound with some extensive and life-threatening injuries; we don't know for certain how she got them, but we do know that she's not out of the woods yet. She's still critical."

"What's Doctor Cho said?" Wanda asked, her face pale.

"The biggest threat to her right now is that there's some bleeding on her brain. They've removed a piece of her skull to try and stop the pressure but there's a lot of risk there. Essentially, we don't know if she's going to get better until she starts getting better and even then, we don't know what the inside of her head is going to be like."

"You think they did something to her? Clint questioned.

"I know they did a lot of stuff to her; what I don't know is how that is going to have affected her mentality. We all know Natasha is tough, but she'd likely been under torture for months and even she has a breaking point."

There was nothing to say to that, no argument could be made against what Tony was saying and they all knew it.

"Can we see her?"

Tony nodded, his own face full of seriousness. "Only two in her room at a time."

Without another word, Tony was leading them towards the medical bay. "The kid is with her now – we didn't want her to be alone – so you might have to wait a minute or two before going in because he's been worried sick about her since yesterday." A fond grin broke onto Tony's face before it quickly disappeared. "That might be a good thing though, it's probably best that you see her before you actually _see_ her."

"Is it that bad?" Clint could already feel the pit in his stomach begin to grow.

"It's Natasha." Steve whispered. "It was always going to be bad."

Arriving in the medical bay, the walk suddenly became long and daunting. They could hear an unfamiliar but soft voice speaking as they grew closer to the room Natasha was in.

"That's the kid, Peter." Tony stated, stopping just before the window that showed the inside of Natasha's room; keeping her just out of their view. "He's Spiderman but as far as the rest of the world is concerned; he's an intern. He found Natasha yesterday, he's been wanting to be around in case she woke up while we were talking."

Moving to the side, he spoke final time. "Just to warn you, it's a lot to take in."

As he moved past Tony and gazed into Natasha's hospital room, Steve had never felt such a deep sense of loathing for himself since he had watched Bucky die.

 _Oh, Nat,_ he thought as his heart lurched and his stomach twisted itself into a tight knot _, what the hell have they done to you?_


	6. Bedisde Manner

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! I hope you enjoy this chapter. As usual, I own nothing!

* * *

After allowing everyone to have a few moments getting used to Natasha's condition, Tony decided that it would be best to step in; they couldn't do much _with_ Natasha until she was awake, but they could at least try to do something _for_ her right now.

Turning to the others he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by another voice.

"Stark! Rogers! What the hell is going on? I've been dead for five minutes and this all goes to shit?! Where's Natasha?"

There, emerging from the hall, was a formidable looking Nick Fury. His face was twisted into an expression that matched his name in nothing sort of perfection – had this been under any other set of circumstances, Tony would have certainly found it funny but with his teammate and friend lying unconscious in his peripheral, there was no form of humour to be found in any of his features.

Next to Fury was an almost expressionless Maria Hill. If Tony hadn't spent a few years with Hill he wouldn't have noticed the worry hidden away on her face, but he had, so he did, and it instantly made any defence he had prepared to throw Fury's way – such as a _well, where have you been?_ – die on his lips; while he had his own issues with Fury; he knew that Natasha considered the man family and that the affection there was most definitely mutual.

Only growing more infuriated – no pun intended – by the lack of answers coming from both Tony and Steve, Fury allowed a little more command to slip into his tone as he stopped in front of the gatherer party. "Answers. Now."

Shaking his surprise out of his head, it was Clint who took the charge and answered. "Natasha's in there; she's critical but stable. We don't know what happened to her, we just know that she showed up here in a bad way. Now with all due respect Sir; what the hell are you doing here when you're supposed to be dead?"

Having been appeased by Clint's efficient update on Natasha's currently state, Fury seemed to decide that he would be cooperative.

"I've heard a lot about you guys in the last few months, most of which I was happy to ignore. Then I hear you've started blowing up airports and leaving one another in the shit." At that, Fury glares at both Stark and Rogers before continuing. "That irritated me. Let me tell you, if I hadn't expected some sort of reconciliation at the end of it all, I'd have flown to Berlin myself and beat your damn heads together."

He shook his head and Steve felt very much reminded of how his mother used to chastise him when he'd gotten in another fight that Bucky ended up pulling him out of.

Fury, it seemed, was far from finished.

"Now, after a few days I decided that it was your problem and you two could fix it in your own way; I know that there wouldn't have been some sort of civil-war between you without any good reason. That's _your_ mess; _you_ can clean it up."

Again, his eyes never wavered from their glaring at the two leaders.

"What does, however, _piss me off_ , is when a man – or in this case a woman – gets left behind in the aftermath of your damn fight! I don't care if that woman can take care of a small army with her hands tied behind her back. It. Should. Never. Happen. Why the hell did no one think to check that Romanoff was okay?"

At this, it seemed that the best place to look was at the floor. There was no reasonable answer to that question. It was easy to assume that Natasha was more than capable of taking care of herself, but it was also an unspoken knowledge that Natasha had nothing outside of the Avengers. Her only connection to the world was created in the solid ground, the roots, that being a part of the Avengers had given her – especially after Shield had fallen. The two organisations had given her a protection from her past which had allowed her to build herself a home; to become a part of a family.

Even her connections with the Barton family was only maintained through the fact that Natasha had been avoided by her enemies when working as an Avenger. Not that Natasha's connection to them wasn't strong and genuine but she knew that if she was being actively hunted, a lot of the people looking for her weren't afraid of hurting children – they had done it to her, after all. If it had meant protection for those that she loved, Natasha would cut all ties to her in a heartbeat. Being a part of Shield, and later the Avengers, had given her a form of protection to create a safe life. Anyone hunting her from the shadows would have to wait until she had stopped walking in the daylight.

She had gone from basking in the light to being pushed back into the darkness without any warning at all. Over two separate nights her protection had fallen away. Natasha had always thought that the Avengers would outgrow her; she had believed that this regime would never crumble. She had said it to the politicians on Capitol Hill and she had believed it; she had _wanted_ it.

Glad that his words had an impact, Fury spoke again. "I can't stay for long – I'm still dead. But Hill's going to stay here and keep me updated." His voice softened. "Can I see her before I go?"

They all nodded, and Fury made his way into the room. He had only been in a few seconds before Peter stepped out.

"Hey, Mr Stark? The scary pirate man wanted a few minutes with Miss Romanoff, so I thought I should leave them to it. Is there anything I can – holy crap!"

The teens eyes widened as he looked around at the gathering of people in front of him. "It's Captain America! It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I mean, again, anyway. Last time we met you kind of kicked my ass. Oh my God! You're Hawkeye!"

Without hesitation, or any of the sheepishness that had come over Steve's face after he realised that he had sort-of beat up a teenage boy, Clint stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you...?"

"Peter, Peter Parker."

"Nice to meet you, Peter. Thanks for taking good care of Natasha for us."

The boy flushed slightly. "N-no problem, Mr Hawkeye. I just wanted to make sure she was all good after she collapsed and then almost bled out on her bedroom floor yesterday."

Steve noticed Clint wince slightly and had a hard time stopping himself from doing the same; every reminder of Natasha's state made him feel more and more guilty. Looking around, it was simple to realise that he wasn't the only one.

"Call me Clint."

"Oh, wow, okay, cool." Peter stuttered, once again looking around in awe.

Then as if remembering everything that he had learned in the past few months, Peter turned back to Tony. "Is everything alright, Mr Stark?"

Plastering a smile on his face that was, admittedly, mostly fake but not wanting to worry the already stressed teenager in front of him, Tony nodded.

"Everything's fine, kid. These guys are just back to see Natasha."

Peter nodded, trying to ignore the increasingly noticeable tension in the room. He had been so awestruck by the sight of those who he had looked up to for years that he had almost completely forgotten everything that had gone down in the past few months.

"Oh, okay. Is she going to be alright?"

Surprisingly, having remained silent for the previous bout of conversation, it was Wanda who answered. "Natasha is strong, she will fight hard to overcome this illness."

As she watched the boy nod again, Wanda felt sick. She had tried to refrain from looking into Natasha's head because doing so had felt like she was violating the other woman's trust, but she could already feel the defeat radiating off Natasha in waves. It felt as though all her usual fight and determination had vanished – _or it had been beaten out of her_ , Wanda thought bitterly.

Vision had noticed her growing distress. "Are you alright, Wanda."

"I'm fine, Vis." She murmured. "I just wish I could say the same about Natasha."

"I understand."

"I know."

The two of them shared a smile. While there was some question among the others over whether Vision could understand, and feel, emotion, Wanda firmly believed that he could. He had always been attuned to how she was feeling and due to that, the two of them had developed something of a connection.

That was another reason Wanda had a longing for Natasha's company; there was no one else she could really talk to about things like this anymore.

Before anything else could be said, the door to Natasha's room opened again and Fury stepped out. Without speaking, Peter walked back into Natasha's room and took up vigil at her bedside once more.

"Nice kid." Fury said, joining the others at the window. "Spiderman, right?"

"A Stark Industries intern, actually." Tony replied, his tone curt.

"My mistake."

Tony nodded, seemingly satisfied. "I take it you'll be leaving in a minute?"

"You'd be right, but I expect to be kept informed." He looked back at Hill who nodded before he started walking away. "I'll be keeping my eye on this."

Glancing back at them, he tilted his head forward before walking away and out of the doors to the med-bay.

"You know, I always thought he couldn't get any vaguer, but he seems to prove me wrong every time we meet." Tony said, still looking in the direction Fury had left from. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I got what he was saying, but who comes back from the dead to do all that?"

Steve sighed. "Someone who cares about Natasha as much as we do, I imagine."

"Fair point, Rogers."

Silence followed before Pepper cleared her throat. "Do any of you want to rest or have something to eat, I imagine it was a long flight from, well, wherever you were."

"I'd like to call Laura and maybe a few of Nat's other friends," Clint admitted, looking at Pepper and Tony, "If we're going to find out how long she was in captivity for, it might be a good idea to see if she's been in touch with anyone – but I'll need a secure line; just in case."

Stark nodded. "I'll sort one out for you. Anyone else need anything?"

Both Sam and Wanda admitted that they would like a change of clothes and a shower. After a few minutes, the group began to move away from Natasha's room and towards the common room; Pepper had been following the tail end of the group when she had noticed that Steve had stayed behind, still looking at Natasha's still form.

Now, Pepper wasn't going to pretend that she was at all happy with Steve Rogers. She could handle the fact that Tony and Steve were prone to consistent disagreements – that was only natural when you had two pig-headed people who had different outlooks on life. What she had a harder time digesting was that Steve had known that Tony's parents had been killed and had deliberately hidden that information. When you see someone that you love in such pain, whether it was from the revelations, the betrayal or anything else; seeing Tony like that had broken Pepper's heart and, despite her nature, it was going to take a long time to forgive Steve Rogers for his part in all that.

However, looking at Steve now, Pepper felt as though he may have some idea of how she had been feeling towards him in the six months after Siberia. Natasha was lying there, motionless, having spent who knows how long at the mercy of some heartless monster and there was nothing that could be done to fix it accept try to find out how, or why, it had happened and hope that Natasha survived to tell them what she remembered. Now, what that had to do with love, Pepper didn't know for sure; but if the way Steve was looking at Natasha was any indication, well, she had a good inclination about how the battering his heart was taking had left him.

"Steve," Pepper asked, laying her hand on his arm, "are you okay?"

He seemed to shrug himself out of some heavy thoughts before turning to look at her. "Pepper? Are you alright?"

"I was just asking you that same question."

Steve tried to smile but it looked as defeated as the rest of him. "I'm fine."

"No, you aren't." She corrected. "Your," she paused, hoping to find the correct term, " _friend_ is lying in a hospital bed grievously injured; if your fine then you're a sociopath, which I know you aren't; so no, you aren't fine."

"I'm not fine." He repeated. As the words left his lips, his whole body slumped as though the world had just dropped its weight on his shoulders and he was about to collapse under it. "Far from it, actually."

"I noticed – what's going on? I know this is a lot but your usually so composed."

"I've never seen her, Natasha, like this. It's just… _wrong._ "

Pepper nodded in agreement; she had known Natasha for about six years and it always seemed as though she was made of marble; there was nothing that could faze or shake her, let alone actually cause her any harm. Yet here she was – here they all were – lying in a hospital bed in critical condition.

She shuddered. "I know what you mean. It seems like it goes against everything Natasha is to be here in this state." She looked up at Steve, her gaze fierce. "But she is here and all we can do now is make sure that she gets the best care possible while she recovers, and you can't do that if you're blaming yourself. You can't change what's happened, but you can help to fix it."

Steve straightened up. "You're right, thank you, Pepper."

The blonde smiled. "Don't worry about it. Natasha would throw a fit if she someone allowed you boys fall out of line."

They shared a laugh before Steve allowed his eyes to drift over to Natasha again. "Do you think anyone would mind if I sat with her for a while?"

"Not at all. It might do Peter some good to get something to eat; he's been with Natasha since she got out of surgery – he didn't want her to be alone."

Hearing the last few words leave Pepper's mouth caused a stabbing pain to bloom in Steve's chest. He remembered Natasha saying something very similar at a time when he had needed his friends the most. He felt a growing bitterness towards himself as he reminded himself how he had not been there to keep her from feeling alone; how he hadn't gone back for her. Reminding himself of what Pepper had said, Steve pushed those feelings away – at some point, most likely when Natasha was awake, he would have to deal with them but for now they were unhelpful – he couldn't change what he had done, but he could try to fix it by being there for her now.

Walking into her hospital room, Steve smiled and nodded his thanks at Peter as Pepper pulled to teenager out and away with the offer of food. Pulling a seat as close to the bed as possible, Steve took a moment to look at Natasha properly. Her face was bruised and swollen to the point where it was almost completely different in shape but there was still the usual sense of Natasha-ness about her that it made his lips turn up to hint at a smile.

He reached forward and gently took her hand in his, he could see the heavy bandages and didn't fail to spot that her fingernails were all missing accept for one that had already begun to grow back. A part of him wondered if he was supposed to say anything; when his Mother was dying, he had spoken a mile a minute in order to share and remind her of any possible memories that they had together but with Natasha it felt different. Anything he said to Natasha, any apologies he made, he wanted to make them to Natasha, not this version of her; the lifeless, motionless one.

"We're all here, Nat." He offered instead. "Clint, Wanda, Sam and I; we've all come back. Tony, Pepper, Vision and Rhodey are here too. There's a new kid, Peter. You've made an impression on him – he seems quite fond of you. Fury's been around; Maria came with him, but he's had to go back into hiding. Hill's stayed. I think she's worried about you too. Helen's been keeping an eye on you, so I know you're going to make a quick recovery."

Steve paused, allowing the silence that followed to be filled by the steady stroking of his thumb along the palm of her hand.

"I've missed you, Nat. So much."

He _had_ missed her, deeply. It had been odd to wake up every morning and not see Natasha already awake and prepared for the day – sometimes he wondered if she had slept at all, but he never asked in fear of causing her any upset; Natasha had a dark past, he didn't want to make her bring forward anything she wouldn't offer.

Since New York, since the day he had first joined Shield, he had been beside Natasha; she had become his partner, his confidant. While the relationship between them had been professional at first – simply acting and associating for mission purposes – it had grown into becoming one of the most defining relationships of his life. He had been so sure of his view of the world until he had begun to understand and appreciate Natasha. While that view had, unfortunately in some cases, never changed, Natasha's complicated yet simple understanding of life had shaken his confidence in it.

Sitting beside her now, Steve felt as though he would never have confidence in his decisions again; only regret at the consequences.

* * *

Keeping up the silence, the blonde kept his eyes firmly on Natasha. While it may appear like a lost cause, he was hoping that any second, she would open her eyes and throw him her typical smirk. Anything after that he could cope with, he just needed to know that the Natasha he knew – the Natasha he had left behind – was still alive and kicking somewhere; even if that meant she was kicking at him.

"If you're waiting for her to wake up, you're out of luck, Cap." A voice said from behind him. "Cho has her so doped up that she's not going to wake up until they're certain she's healing – physically, anyway."

Looking to the side, Steve gestured in absentminded agreement before turning his eyes back to Natasha.

"Is everything alright, Tony?"

The man in question smirked slightly, although there was no humour in it. "Do you mean in general or in relation to this specific situation."

"Honestly? The latter. But we can talk about both if you want."

The grin vanished. "No, we can't. Not right now. As far as Natasha's situation is concerned, everything is as fine as it can be - which is barely fine at all, at least until we have any more leads. The other thing? Well, maybe we should just stick to this whole silent truce thing we have going on, Cap, because I don't know if I can deal with all these feelings at once and you're here – alive – and Barnes is somewhere, also alive. Meanwhile. Romanoff could die any second; so, yeah, let's just stick to that because I can hate the two of you for as long as I want but I can't pretend that I'm okay with it all. Not now and definitely not here."

Tony sighed, gesturing to Natasha. "I was so mad when she let you go, and I didn't even know about Barnes then. I watched her leave, I let T'Challa sell her down the river and I watched her go because all I could think about was that it was me vs you and I thought that she had played me."

He dropped into the chair opposite Steve, still talking but not meeting his eyes. "I knew that she would be in danger, but I was so mad I didn't even care. When I got back from Siberia, I was still pissed; I thought she knew about my parents." He paused, finally making eye contact with Steve. "Did she?"

"I don't know." Steve admitted. "She was there when Zola told us about Hydra's infiltration of Shield and she knew about the Winter Soldier long before I did – before he killed Fury, and before that, he had shot her in Odessa. I found out that Hydra had ordered the assassination of your parents officially through a file that Natasha gave me on the Winter Soldier when I went to go and look for Bucky, but I don't know if she read it. When she gave it to me, she told me that I might not want to pull on that thread." Steve stopped, wondering if this was what Natasha had meant. If she had predicted how it would all fall apart. "In all honesty? Yeah, I think she knew but I don't think she thought that it was her place to tell you; I think she thought that I would do the right thing and tell you before I went looking or at least before I brought him back home."

Tony bobbed his head gently. "Sounds about right."

"If anyone should have told you it was me." Steve confessed.

"I won't argue with you on that. Besides, as far as Natasha knows, you might have told me already. It wasn't like we saw her between Shield falling and the Avengers regrouping; she and I were never ones for deep, emotional conversations without a lot of booze involved and there wasn't time for that with Ultron on the loose. Besides, I think she thought you were too good a man to keep a secret like that."

At that, Steve did wince. There was a little venom in Tony's voice, but the real attack came from his assertion of Natasha's belief in him. She had never seen him as a paragon of virtue he was sure; she knew him far better than that, but had truly looked at him as a good man? Would she be disappointed in him when she realised how deep he had buried that secret in order to protect Bucky?

God, he felt like such a monster.

Speaking of people who considered themselves monsters, Steve remembered what he had been meaning to ask since he had arrived back at the compound.

"Has anyone been in contact with Bruce?" Steve asked. He was sure Natasha would want Banner here regardless of the way things had ended between them.

Tony's face fell even further. "There's still no sign of him. The correct protocol would still be to assume him M.I.A or…"

They both fell into a tense silence. It was hard to look back and see what their team had been, and, in many ways, it was harder to accept what they had become.

Cap turned to look back at Natasha. "Do you think she knows?"

"Probably. Natasha was always more immersed in the world than we gave her credit for. When Shield couldn't find anything outside of the quinjet remains in Fiji, I think she either realised that he didn't want to be found or that he wasn't coming back. She's too much of a realist to not look at all the options. Or what they might mean for Bruce."

They had spent the months between Sokovia and the move to the new Avengers compound using all the resources they could get their hands on to find any trace of Bruce. Once they had moved in, it had, admittedly become less of a priority; clearly when Bruce had left, he'd had little intention of coming back or being found but they had wanted to make sure that he was healthy and safe at least before they gave up searching. When Fury had given Natasha the information of the quinjet that had crashed off the coast of Fiji, she had given the information to both Steve and Tony that same night. Tony had taken lead of the search; even going to Fiji himself to search anywhere he believed he could find his friend, but nothing had come up. After a year of searching, they had decided that they would have Bruce – and the Hulk – labelled as M.I.A that way if the new reached Bruce, he would be able to contact them to reassure them.

However, no contact ever came. No one really knew how Natasha took the news – they all knew that she had been sending her own, subtler, contacts out into the world; but she had respected that he may not want to be found and had ordered them the retreat.

They did all notice that the afternoon Bruce was declared M.I.A officially, no one heard or saw Natasha until the following morning. If anyone had noticed the redness of her eyes when she had emerged from her room, they were too smart to make any comment.

Once again, silence had overtaken the treatment room. The steady beeping and whirling of the machines offered little comfort among the two men's silent musings and did nothing to remove any tension. Yet again, why would they? Natasha's presence here, in such a terrible condition, only served as a reminder of what had happened between them all.

Eventually deciding that any terse of stern reply would be better than staying alone inside his head, Steve began to speak.

"Before she collapsed, did she say anything?"

Tony's expression looked pained. "I don't know. It was Peter who found her and by the time he got to her, she was barely hanging on."

"Poor kid."

"You're telling me. His Aunt already dislikes me; if she found out what happened that night, I think she might actually kill me." He sighed, bringing his hand up to press against his temple as if trying to prevent the headache he knew would be coming.

"His Aunt?"

"Name's May. She's been his guardian since his parents died. Super protective; didn't realise he was a superhero until she walked in and saw him trying on his costume – at which point she spends about four hours yelling at me down the phone about responsibility before guessing how many inches my head was shoved up my own ass. Still, she can't be that bad, she's clearly done a great job with him; I mean have you seen that kid? He spent nearly five hours sitting next to the hospital bed of a woman he doesn't know at all because he didn't want her to spend a second alone."

Steve's lips twitched. Despite the note of exhaustion in his tone, Tony was undoubtedly fond of both Peter and his Aunt if the gentle glint in the back of his eye had anything to say.

"He's a good kid, I should apologise to him the next time I see him."

"I think he's just happy to have met you; like he said, he's a big fan. Although, given that you almost dropped a tonne on him, an apology might go far if you're looking at it all from a moral perspective."

Steve nodded. "Fair enough. I'll do it next time I see him."

Tony hummed in agreement, seeming pleased before the smile fell from his place. "Back to your original point. I did speak to Natasha, not long before she came back. Hours really."

The blond jerked upright. "What? So, she was only in captivity for a few hours and they did all _this_?" He gestured to Natasha; her body covered in bandages and casts. While the idea that she had only been in captivity a few days took a weight off his heart, the idea that whoever captured her had been able to cause her such pain in just a few hours was sickening.

"Not exactly," Stark sighed again, "I was in my office, here, when my phone rang. I answered it and it wasn't who I was expecting; it was Natasha – and she sounded like she was in a bad way."

The sickening feeling that had been pooling in Steve's stomach only doubled at Tony's revelation as what he was saying dawned on Steve.

"Wait, are you saying that we know the person that did this?"

"I don't know for sure, but I'm willing to bet my fortune on it."

Steve felt his muscles tense as he pressed on. "Who?"

For the first time since Siberia, Tony looked Steve dead in the eyes and held his gaze. "General Ross."

It was like the floor had fallen out from under him. Steve wasn't necessarily that surprised that it was Ross; he knew what the General had done to Bruce, and he knew that Natasha had a complicated history with the man, but he also knew that it meant that Natasha had been _right under his nose_ when he had broken the others out of the compound.

T'Challa had been a consistent informant for Steve and when the latter had confided in his plans that he was going to break out his captive teammates, the King had told him to act with the utmost caution as General Ross' visits to the compound had doubled since he had captured the others in Berlin; he had been there almost every day and would remain in his office for hours on end; keeping a watchful eye on the prison from the cameras he had hidden in there. If it wasn't him; it was two of his most trusted soldiers. Looking back, Steve realised that had been because of Natasha; Ross had expected him to come for the others, but he couldn't go after Natasha because he hadn't known she was there. She had become the hidden Ace in the General's plan. Nobody knew how much Natasha knew, but they knew that it was a lot; when it came to Steve, she knew more than anyone else. She had been his second, Ross must have believed that she would have had some idea where Steve had gone, what he was doing and what he would plan to do and how.

In that moment, Steve knew that Natasha had told Ross nothing – he had always been so predictable to her, she could make a well-educated guess and probably get it spot on. No, Natasha had said nothing. She had continued to protect him although he had left her behind - apparently, more than once.

He had never wished he could turn back time more so that he could go back to Berlin and beg Natasha to come with him and Bucky. Leaving her behind had allowed her to end up in this position and he hated himself for it.

Tony seemed to look right into his thoughts as he spoke again. "It's not your fault, Rogers. We don't know what happened. She came back here after she let you both go, and I sent her away; if we're placing blame then I'm taking my share."

There was nothing to do but acknowledge the truth in front of them. "I doubt she'd blame us though." Steve stated, gently squeezing Natasha's hand. "That, or she's going to kick both our asses when she wakes up."

Stark grinned. "She might do it anyway just to keep us in line."

"True."

For a moment it was as though they had navigated their way through the tension but underneath it all, they both knew that there was a long discussion ahead of them. It was easy to acknowledge how they had made mistakes; what wasn't so easy to admit was how that has affected one another, and if they would do things differently if they could.

Steve knew, deep down, that what he was sorry for now was Natasha's condition. Don't misunderstand; he was still deeply sorry for the pain he had caused Tony. However, he knew he would change his actions leading to the former but there was a long line of history leading him to the latter which required a much deeper internal analysis. Would he have changed how Tony had discovered the truth? Yes. Would he change the fact that he had protected Bucky? Honestly, he didn't think so.

His musings were stopped by the man across from him – again. "Look, Rogers, whatever path you're going down now; just don't. Please; I don't want to have that discussion yet and I certainly don't want to have it here."

While the desire to push the matter was strong, Steve knew that the biggest betrayal in all this had been portrayed by himself, so he swallowed whatever protest he had and bobbed his head forward in agreement.

"We do need to talk though." He said, softly.

Tony sighed. "I know – and we will. But not now."

"Okay."

He knew that Tony was relieved that he hadn't pushed it further as he relaxed slightly and sat back in his chair. Steve hadn't realised how tense the subject had made Tony and vowed, as much as he might have wanted otherwise, to not push the matter anymore until Stark bought it up himself. There was a lot that couldn't be changed between the two of them, and there were a few cuts that Steve was sure would leave behind some painful scars. There wasn't anything that could be done on that front. What he could do, on the other hand, was try not to create any more wounds for the two of them in the time that he was here.

Looking at the man across from him and the woman who lied between them, Steve easily decided that there had been enough trauma – a lot of which had a splintering of blame that could be, at least in part, cast at his own feet. Or at least as far as he was concerned.

Now, he hoped, there would be a chance to offer them all a little bit of healing – himself included.

They stayed in the little hospital room for a long time in nothing but quiet, neither of them thinking too hard but both hoping that the red headed woman lying on the hospital bed would wake up soon.

* * *

Eventually, after about an hour the silence was broken by a gentle tapping on the door. Looking up, the two men noticed that Wanda was stood at the door. She had showered and changed but the worry was still fresh on her face. Standing up, Steve walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"You okay, Wanda?"

She smiled up at him in response, but it was empty; the truth was, she wasn't okay. Not at all. Having spent some time with Wanda, Steve noticed and raised his eyebrow in his best imitation of Clint's "Dad Glare". Wanda's lip twitched for a second before her shoulders sagged.

"I am worried." She confessed. "How is Natasha?"

Tony walked over, while his relationship with Wanda was not perfect a large portion of the tension and animosity had vanished after Sokovia. His actions in having her restricted to the compound had angered her, but she had admittedly cooled down a lot after her experience in the raft. She had not appreciated how Stark had gone about trying to lock her in, but she had grown to understand what he was trying to protect her from and that was something she could appreciate at least.

"She's still stable but nothing else has changed yet." Tony told her. "Do you want to sit with her? I need to go check on Pepper and Peter anyway."

"If you are sure." Wanda probed, hesitant to make anyone feel as though she was pushing them away.

"I am." Tony smiled at her before sending a nod Steve's way. "Cap."

"Tony."

Without another word the billionaire left the room. Within a second, Wanda had taken up his seat and placed her hand gently on the bed - next to Natasha's but not touching it.

"You can hold her hand if you want to, Wanda." Steve told her.

The witch's eyes were glinting with unshed tears. "I do not want to cause her any more pain."

"You won't."

He sounded so sure that Wanda found it impossible not to reach over and take Natasha's hand in her own. While she was hesitant at first, Steve could see her confidence grown as she took the older woman's hand in a firm – but still soft – grip.

Smiling, Steve sat back in his own chair and took back his hold on Natasha's other hand. "How are the others?"

Wanda looked at him. "Vis is doing what he can to help Rhodey, I didn't ask what they were doing but it involved security. Clint was still on the phone to Laura, they are both upset by the news of Natasha's condition. Sam had a shower and then began talking to the Spider-boy."

"Spiderman." Steve corrected.

Wanda rolled her eyes. "The Spiderman, then."

"Do you think Clint will be down here soon?"

"Probably." She stated. "He seemed to be persistent in his goal to find out if anyone had seen Natasha since she left the compound after Berlin. He _was_ up all night flying the jet, so Sam said that he was going to try and make him get some rest after he gets off the phone to Laura. I doubt he will listen, but I told Sam to tell him that if he did not get some sleep soon, I would make him sleep myself."

Steve chuckled. "I doubt even that will sway him; he's not going to rest until he can see Natasha for himself."

"I know." Wanda admitted. "I just think that Natasha would not want her friends to place themselves on the verge of exhaustion to simply sit at her bedside."

That was true, Natasha would always be the one telling everyone that they would always be more use rested then worried. _You can't confront your fears when you're tired,_ she would say, _the more rest you get the more useful you are to yourself, others and those who are unable to protect themselves._

At this moment, Steve would give anything to go back and help Natasha; to not have been there for her when she needed a friend – someone to stay by her side – was something he would regret for the rest of his life.

Wanda looked at him and he could see in her eyes that she understood how he was feeling but before either of them could say anything, Steve heard an erratic beeping sound coming from the machines behind him. Immediately his brain went into overdrive as Wanda's expression morphed from sympathy to pure horror as Natasha's body started to writhe. Standing up, Steve hit the emergency button next to the bed and strode over to the mortified looking woman on the other side of the room. He took her hand in a firm but gentle grip and pulled her towards the door and Doctor Cho burst into the room with multiple nurses. Spotting the two teammates, the doctor gestured to the doors with sympathetic eyes before they become steely and determined as she moved to stand over the arresting figure of Natasha Romanoff.

Keeping his hand with Wanda's, Steve pulled her out the door and back into the corridor. While the sound of the door muted the erratic sounds of the beeping, all Steve could hear was the sound of blood pounding in his ears. He felt sick. Next to him he could feel Wanda shaking as she practically collapsed against the wall further up the corridor. He could feel the vibrations of multiple footsteps and knew their team would be there soon, but he couldn't find the strength within himself to even try to collect whatever was left of him – which, in all honesty, didn't feel like much.

Clint was the first to reach him but rather than stopping, the archer went to move past Steve to the window to Natasha's room. While he knew it was more than likely that one of the nurses had closed the blinds to offer some sense of privacy, the Captain moved his arm to rest on Clint's shoulder.

Brown eyes met blue and the former stopped as though he was completely weightless. "Cap…" He said, voice cracking. There was nothing else. No one knew what to say. It took a moment before Clint fell against the wall and slid down it. Almost instantly, Tony was by his side with his arm on Clint's shoulder. Behind him, Pepper and Vision were offering comfort to Wanda while Sam, Rhodey, Hill and Peter all stood in shock.

"She went into arrest." Wanda told the other's, her face pale with terror lingering in her eyes. "She just looked so…"

She trailed off, a sob breaking the stream of words.

The team sat down, gathered outside the hospital room of their friend and remained in an unbreaking silence. It seemed to take hours before anything changed as eventually, Helen Cho stepped out of the doors separating them from Natasha.

On her face she wore a troubled expression that only broke slightly as they all rose to meet her.

"I'm sorry." She began, trying to ignore the sharp intakes of breath around her. "There was a complication regarding Natasha's head injury that led to her going into cardiac arrest."

"Is she okay?" Steve asked.

"She's stable but we can't be sure that this won't happen again."

"What can we do?" This time it was Sam who spoke.

Helen sighed. "We can keep her comfortable and try to see her through it. At this point that's really all we can do; Natasha's body needs to heal and while her recovery rate is impressive there's a lot for her to recover from."

Clint squared his shoulders. He had a deep respect for Helen, but he could feel dread creeping up his spine at the note the conversation with drifting towards. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that it would be a good idea to prepare yourselves for the worst."


	7. Pieces Solving A Puzzle

_Another update! Sorry it's been so long – I've been completely drained by a lot of different things that had left me feeling completely unmotivated. As a result, I've really struggled to get a lot done in this chapter and it's more of a filler than anything else as I've needed to character to start putting the puzzle pieces together so things can move forward. I've been trying to progress the story along, but it's been hard when there's been no motivation. I am keeping up with the story though and it will continue!_

 _Updates should be more frequent when things have calmed down slightly, which should be soon._

 _I hope you enjoy thing chapter; thank you for all the reviews! They've been a guiding light in a very dark tunnel._

* * *

When he awoke from the ice, Steve used to think that the worse days were the days when nothing happened, when he was left lingering in the memories of days that had long since passed. While he hadn't missed the war, or the bloodshed and the loss, he had ached to have a goal and a purpose to achieve. Something – anything – that would offer him a shred of contentment.

As he lowered himself onto a chair in the kitchen, he thought about how he had been…relieved – in a sense – when he had dropped his shield in Siberia. While he had resigned himself to the possibility that having a family, a wife and children to come home to – a connection – was something that weighed heavily on his heart. Steve had always longed for a home. A place to belong. The Avengers had offered him that, true, but it had also meant spending every day preparing for and fighting battles that he didn't know he could win. Being Captain America had steadily turned from being a badge of honour into a led balloon and he would be lying if he said that he hadn't started to sink slightly under the weight of it.

When the choice had been placed in front of him; his old life for his new – the Avengers and his shield for Bucky – Steve didn't need to think. He'd spent so long serving and saving the world that he couldn't take it anymore; he chose Bucky. He chose to return to Steve Rogers and leave Captain America behind.

There were many repercussions to his choice, a lot of which were clear and present whenever he and Tony were together. Fortune had smiled on him in other ways, he had managed to keep some of his family together. Even though Bucky had chosen to go back in the ice, Steve had found contentment in the fact that he would not only be in safer hands, but also in the idea that his friend had finally started to gain back his control – not only over his mind, but his choices too.

Sam had remained by his side. Steve knew that many people considered Sam to be loyal to him, he was, of course, but the reason the two of them bonded so much was because Sam understood him. They were the same in a lot of ways; like many brothers in arms. They were wired the same way and they were connected and strengthened in their beliefs; both morally and in their faith in one another. During all the conflict, Steve knew that Sam would always have his back.

It had been Sam who had introduced them to Scott; while he had not known the man well during the fight in Berlin, Steve had been impressed by Scott's devotion to his daughter. The way Scott was prepared to sacrifice everything to not only be there for his daughter but also to be a man that she could be proud was nothing short of inspiring. Clint was the same; he had spent years placing his life in danger to make a better world for his wife and children. The devotion the archer had to keeping his family safe and happy displaced balance at its finest. Family was everything to Clint, and while Steve knew he was struggling greatly now; he knew that Barton would improve when Laura and the kids showed up.

Both Clint and Scott had offered Steve a guide on how to be there for Wanda as she struggled after the break out from the raft. While they had no idea where Natasha was, Steve had found it difficult to know what to say to Wanda. He could comfort her through most things, but he had no idea how to comfort her through her trauma – as well as the lingering guilt she had for what happened in Nigeria. He had done his best to be there for her, but he had spent days longing for Natasha to just stride through the door, or to hear her voice on the other end of the phone. The more days that went by with her silence had ticked away at Steve's strength. Wanda had only begun to improve when Vision had showed up. While his visits were sparse, they had offered the young woman a comfort that no one else there could offer.

Sighing, Steve looked around the kitchen. It was almost as if nothing had changed. The walls were the same but the people in them had all changed so much. Looking to his left side, he felt his heart ache slightly as he remembered that the compound could be the last place where Natasha's family had been gathered together; happy and uncompromised.

It would be easy to allow himself to get swept back into the past, to ignore the last six months had happened; hell, it would probably be easier for all of them.

It wouldn't be fair, however, and it certainly wouldn't be honest. He rested his chin on his hand and lowered his eyes to the countertop. Clint was sitting with Natasha for the time being and everyone had thought it best to let the two have a moment alone. His own personal feelings for Natasha aside, Steve knew that no one would suffer more at her loss than Clint. Natasha was to Clint what Bucky was to Steve; the immovable and unchanging force in his life. The first person to offer an idea of family outside any blood relation; sometimes even surpassing it.

Footsteps further down the corridor alerted him to the approaching company he was about to receive. He was left in his solitude for about thirty seconds before Sam walked through the doorway. Initially, he simply walked past Steve towards the coffee machine and switched it on. Only after did he turn and face the blonde man across from him.

"How are you holding up?" Sam asked, pulling two mugs out of the cupboard. Before Steve could answer, he spoke again. "Don't bother with the "I'm fine" or "I'll be okay" bullshit, Cap. Talk to me."

Steve frowned, eyes downcast. "What else can I say?"

"That you're struggling? That you're hurting?"

"This isn't about me."

Sam sighed, pushing a mug of coffee towards Steve before dropping into a seat. "Yeah, it is. It's about you, it's about Stark, it's about Natasha; and it's about all of us. We may be divided right now, Steve, but we were a team. If one of is gets hurt, we all hurt. Natasha's been there for all of us; her pain is our pain too."

There was nothing to say to that. Steve had always advocated for team unity, but it was a lot harder when he felt as though he was a direct reason for Natasha's pain.

"It's not your fault." Sam pressed. "Natasha wouldn't want you to think that it was."

Steve's eyes began to sting. "I left her behind."

He'd been saying that a lot lately. Yet it never wavered in its strength to deliver a sharp stab to his heart every time he did.

"She chose to stay; she wanted to deal with the damage we caused. _We_ , Steve. Not you, not Stark; all of us – Natasha included. She was just brave enough to try and face all the consequences head on and alone. Do you really think she'd have done that without thinking – hell, without _knowing_ – the consequences that would be thrown at her feet? Nat's not stupid. She's strong Steve; in a lot of ways, Natasha's probably the strongest out of all of us. Stop giving up on her before the fights over. She's always believed in us, now we have to believe in her."

The Captain sat up and looked Sam dead in the eye. "If she doesn't make it?"

"Then we avenge her." A new voice said as Wanda stepped into the kitchen, Vision entering behind her. "Sam is right, we don't give up. Not on Natasha."

Steve nodded, feeling stronger surrounded by pieces of his team. "Do we have an ETA on King T'Challa and the Barton's?"

Vision spoke. "According to Friday, they shall arrive this evening. Miss Potts has had rooms prepared for them and Mr Stark has had a crib delivered for Master Nathaniel."

Steve's lips twitched, the youngest Barton child reminding him of some better memories of Natasha. "Good, we'll need to make sure that the kids are settled while Clint explains what we know to Laura." He paused. "Has anyone spoken to Clint?"

Another voice interrupted. "He knows; Friday is going to send someone down to him when their jet shows up on our radar, so that he can be there when they touch down, but he wants to stay with Romanoff for the time being." Tony explained, walking over the machine and pouring himself a large coffee.

Despite the sombre mood that began to overcome the room and the mention of Clint's current vigil, Steve nodded in understanding. "Is anyone going to be with Natasha?"

"Peter's already volunteered." Tony stated, his tone laced with obvious fondness. "I think he likes the idea of forming a spider only supergroup."

Sam snorted. "They could always throw Lang into the mix."

Vision tilted his head in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr Wilson. Spiders are arachnids not insects."

"I know. I just like the idea of two spiders and an ant solving crimes. Wait; didn't Lang say he had a girlfriend called Wasp?"

Wanda shook her head. "That was his girlfriend's Mother, back when her Father wore the Ant-Man suit."

"I believe Mr Wilson was referencing Hope Van Dyne, it is speculated that she has taken over the role of The Wasp in the absence of Ant-Man." Vision corrected before he was interrupted by Tony.

"If we're talking about species-based teams then shouldn't Wilson and Barton be filming a buddy-cop movie as we speak?" The billionaire asked, snorting into his mug.

Steve sighed. "I can't help but feel as though we're going way off topic."

However, his words fell on deaf ears as his teammates began plotting the first season of Sam and Clint's new TV show, featuring appearances from some friend of Barton's called Mockingbird. Watching the jovial change in the atmosphere, Steve allowed himself to get lost in the novelty for a while, admitting to himself that if Natasha was there, she'd already be running circles around the rest of the team.

Besides, it would give them something funny to tell her when she woke up.

* * *

Across the compound, unaware of his new job, Clint sat next to Natasha's still figure. The light-hearted mood that was being generated by the others was hard to replicate when he was sat next to the unmoving body of his dearest friend.

He had her hand clutched tightly in his own, rubbing steady circles across her wrist allowing the constant pulse under her skin to reassure him where the beeping of the machines failed to do so. Clint had always hated hospitals, aside from the birth of his children – all of which had occurred in private, isolated Shield sites – he didn't think he had a single good memory associated with a hospital. Everything about them represented something that he loathed.

The cleanliness for example, was unnerving. Clint wasn't a slob, not really, but while many people would assume that he had picked his home with Laura to be in the middle of nowhere for spy reasons, they couldn't have been more wrong. It was helpful, of course, especially since he had joined the Avengers and become a lot more recognisable. However, if Hawkeye was good at one thing – aside from archery, of course – it was being unnoticeable. He was a damn good spy and a good spy could go unnoticed anywhere.

No, the reason he built his farmhouse there was because it was… natural. Normal. There was a grounded quality to it. It reminded him of everything he had wanted in his life, both when he was a child – a normal, honest home for him and his brother – and when he was an adult. He had wanted somewhere where he and his wife could build a life that kept him away from the world but also allow him to forge his place within it.

When Clint had recruited Natasha, the first place he had brought her was to the farmhouse; to Laura and the world that he had built with her there. If anyone had needed to find their place in the world it was Natasha. Coulson had told him that there was no chance Fury would recruit Natasha in the state that she'd been in – depressed, lost, suicidal; the biggest danger to Natasha wasn't Shield or any other organization threatening her life at the time. No, it had been Natasha herself. So, under the disguise of going dark for a few days to submerge himself in the hunt for the Black Widow – and with Coulson's unending help and support – Clint had pulled Natasha out and brought her into his world. The real world wasn't ready for Natasha Romanoff yet, but Clint and Laura Barton? They could do this – no problem.

Without hesitation, Natasha had become a part of their world and her presence had only solidified over the years. She had been the first person to hold the Barton children after their birth and she had always had a room and a bed in their home – and a firm key into the heart of their world.

Keeping his hand on Natasha's, Clint counted the pauses between her heartbeats to give himself focus. He couldn't lose control now, he needed to stay strong – at least until Laura showed up. While he had been battling a lot of emotions since he had found out about Natasha's condition, Clint had remained as composed as possible. He had sat by Natasha's beside a handful of times, but it had been more than anyone else; he knew that when she woke up, she would likely be disorientated and confused. In that state, what Natasha would need would be someone who could be stone-faced first and then emotional – and there would be _lots_ of emotion.

Watching the almost restless expression on his partners face, Clint wondered whether Wanda would investigate Natasha's head if he asked. Having been partnered with Natasha for years, Clint knew that, unlike most people in great periods of distress, Natasha became more frantic during her sleep. Rather that flushing her pain and uncomfortableness away, resting allowed Natasha more time to linger on her pain; thus, plaguing her with nightmares and memories that brought forward more buried feelings then Natasha was ready to deal with. As he looked at the furrow between her brows and the slight downturn of her lips, Clint knew that Natasha was struggling emotionally as much as she was physically. Her physically pain was easily fixed but Clint knew that if there were any conscious thoughts going on in her head, Natasha would be in just as concerning a condition awake as she was asleep; and likely in a similar amount of mortal peril.

While he used his other hand to push some hair away from her face, Clint hoped that Natasha would still trust them all enough to help her come to terms with her emotional pain while she healed from her physical pain.

Not wanting to worry about anything more than necessary for the time being, the archer pushed the troubles away from his mind for the time being, instead finding contentment in sitting alongside his friend. His thumb continued its soothing pace along her skin, dancing through the gaps between her bruises while he passed along messages about his children's latest adventures. Nathaniel had begun to stand, when he had spoken to Laura the night before they had heard about Natasha; Clint had spent hours on the phone watching his youngest son pull himself into a standing position among to the tunes of cheering from his brother and sister.

It had made his heart ache to think that he might not have been there to watch his son stumble through their house for the first time. Clint had, privately, felt desperate to organise his plea deal as soon as possible; there was too much waiting for him back home to leave behind. There was little regret in what he had done for Cap – and Wanda – but he hadn't thought about how much it would affect his own world.

Natasha's absence had only reinforced that. When Tony had appeared in the Raft without Natasha, Clint had known that there would be trouble in his friend's horizon. Whether that was because she had gone with Cap and Barnes to fight the other Winter Soldiers in Siberia – which he hoped she had, it was better than the alternative – or because she had been forced to flee on her own, he didn't know. He had simply laid in his cell hoping that his best friend was safe and not currently on the run, alone, from the one place she had felt safe to call home in years. The worry was there, though. Lingering and growing the more time he spent thinking on it.

Alongside Laura and the kids, Natasha had always occupied the biggest space of worry in his mind, only his worry for her was usually justified and very, very real. However, he had soothed himself into believing that she was most likely just hiding out in the farm, plotting how to free them so that she could assure herself that everyone was safe before running back into hiding to fight her battles alone – well, Clint believed that Steve would have followed her; Wanda and Sam too, but sometimes the best way to outmanoeuvre Natasha Romanoff was to simply ignore her scary murderess face and watch her six whether she liked it or not.

When Steve had showed up, ready to break them all out and scurry them away on a jet to Wakanda, Clint had been surprised – as well as unnerved – to not find Natasha's typical smirk by his side.

* * *

 _Clint was surprised at the smoothness to which Roger's plan was being executed. Not that he didn't have faith in Steve; he had great admiration for the man, as well as his extensive skillset. However, it wouldn't be wrong of him to say that subtlety and covertness was not the way in which Steve Rogers – or Captain America – usually operated._

 _A smile tugged slightly at his lips; perhaps this was Natasha's influence._

 _Walking towards the bars of his cage, Clint met Sam's eye and the two shared a smile. Next to Clint, Scott was watching with an open mouth as the body of a guard few past the doorway in the outside hallway. The only sound that followed was the thump of the body hitting the floor and the grunts of a fight happening just outside of view._

 _While the raft had not been prepared for the break-in, the base qualified as over staffed on its quitter days. It would have been naïve to assume that Captain America would leave on teammate behind – let alone four – and the staff at the raft had been preparing for his inevitable rescue attempt._

 _Looking past the cells of his two active teammates, Clint focused his gaze on Wanda's upright figure. Bound tightly in a straitjacket and shock-collar, the young woman was unable to move without a subsequent punishment. While the guards had been too fearful to approach Wanda and had simply slid her food and water in through a hole in the wall, before pulling Clint or Sam out of their cell to feed her, they had been vicious in their humiliation of her. Shocking her if her breathing become laboured, or if she fell back to sleep in the middle of the day._

 _Now, she remained still. There was defeat in her face and exhaustion behind her eyes. Despite their chances of rescue being right behind the door, Wanda seemed to only grow in her despair._

 _Looking back at Sam, the two shared a concerned look as the fight outside the door seemed to end. One more body slammed against the doorframe and a set of footsteps moved closer to the entrance. Before they could get a good look, however, the lights shut off outside the cells; the only light left being the pale blue light that had kept the four captives' company during their time here._

 _Sam sighed. "Cap, you dramatic son of a bitch – get us outta here!"_

 _From the shadows, Steve Rogers emerged. "Language, Wilson."_

 _The two men exchanged a grin before the blonde unlocked the cell door. Sam exited and, after greeting Steve with a quick hug and pat on the back, walked over to Wanda's cell. Steve followed, his face quickly morphing into a look of sheer horror._

" _Wanda…" He began, trailing off as his voice caught._

 _Sensing the need to take charge, Wanda smiled, although there was no heart in it, before turning serious._

" _You can get me out of this, yes?" She asked, her accent thick and her voice hoarse from disuse. When Steve nodded, pulling something that looked like a shortwave EMP from his pocket, she spoke again. "Good, then do it."_

 _He did. Within seconds the shock collar was on the floor and Wanda was shrugging of the straitjacket. As she started loathingly at the collar it became flooded with a red light before it caved in on itself, dropping to the floor as a useless ball of metal._

 _Wanda scoffed, her eyes brown but still empty. "Good riddance."_

 _Deciding that now was not the best time to comment, Steve passed something to Sam and nodded towards Scott's cell before he headed over to Clint._

" _Cap." The archer grinned, relieved to be getting out of his prison._

" _Barton, are you doing okay?"_

 _He nodded. "I'm fine. How was Siberia?"_

 _Something dark and regretful collapsed over Steve's face and instantly Clint knew that he had asked the wrong question. As his cell door swung open, he doubted he was going to like whatever answer came out of the Captain's mouth._

 _Steve sighed, his face wrought with pain. "Messy."_

 _Just by looking at him, Clint could tell that was a simple understatement. "Do I want to know what that means?"_

" _Probably, but not today."_

 _Barton shrugged. That was true, he doubted he could deal with any more bad news now. Instead he decided to focus on something that would put his mind at ease. "Can you at least tell me Nat's okay? She's, here right?"_

 _As the Captain's eyes met his own again, Clint knew that this was going to be a hard pill to swallow._

" _Steve, please tell me that Nat's with you."_

 _Pain flooded the blue eyes opposite him. "I'm sorry, Clint. I don't know where she is."_

 _Clint felt his stomach drop._

 _If Natasha wasn't with Cap, then where the was she?_

 _More importantly…_

 _Was she okay?_

* * *

Sitting uncomfortably in a chair, Clint felt guilty for not trying harder to find Natasha. He had hoped that if she wasn't with Steve, then perhaps she'd have stayed with Tony. The more they had learned from T'Challa it'd been obvious that Natasha would've run, the net had been closing in on her. It had been rational to assume that she may have gone to visit Laura, but Clint had spoken to his wife as soon as he had arrived securely in Wakanda; there had been no visit from Natasha, no phone calls – nothing. As the days had ticked by and Wanda began to draw further into herself, Clint managed to find a secure channel to Fury. Yet there had been no contact between Natasha and their old boss since about a week before Lagos.

While all his routes were coming to dead ends, Clint had prayed that the only thing in this puzzle to not turn up cold would be Natasha herself.

At the time, it had seemed a ridiculous idea that Natasha had been captured. There had been nothing from her enemies boasting about her capture – or her death – and they would have known if she had been imprisoned in the Raft; hell, she'd have been kept beside them.

Or so they had thought.

Clint knew Natasha had a tainted history with General Ross, that was half of the reason as to why he had thought that they'd have known if Natasha was in the Raft. At least once a day during their imprisonment, the stern-faced military man had come down to comment of how he looked forward to adding Captain America to their ranks when Steve inevitably tried to rescue them. He'd taunt them for at least five minutes before ordering his men to "shock the witch". When he left the room, despite his jeering always being met with an unchallenging silence, he always wore the same twisted smirk; as though he'd still got the upper hand.

It was painful to consider that this was exactly why he was smirking.

For the first time since he had arrived in the hospital room, Clint paused in his stroking of Natasha's hand to wipe at his stinging eyes. Natasha was his best friend. If there were such things as platonic soulmates, Clint knew that he had found his in Natasha. She was his sister in all but blood, and they had both known that to be a pointless factor at times. The idea of his world without his best friend was maddening.

He felt his emotions bubbling to the surface and squashed them back down. Right now, he needed to be calm, composed. While it may be therapeutic to imagine impaling Thaddeus Ross with numerous arrows, it wouldn't be helpful. Not to Natasha, or Laura and the kids, and not his teammates – half of whom, while certain to join him in his rampage, were wanted fugitives.

Lost in his thoughts, Clint resumed his motions and sat back in his chair. It was going to be a long day and he knew that he would need his strength to have the conversations that were coming. So, to keep hold of the sanity that he felt was slowly slipping through his fingers, Clint Barton remained silently beside Natasha Romanoff's still figure; preparing to resume his active duties as a father, a husband and a brother.

* * *

Hours later, the Avengers gathered together outside the compound to watch the quinjet that contained the Barton's and the King of Wakanda land. Next to him, Tony could feel the emotions radiating off Clint. Placing his hand on his friend's shoulder, he smiled trying not to let his own feelings prevent him from being there for his teammate. He could practically feel the tension seep out of the archer when his eyes finally landed on his children, two of whom were running in his direction.

Clint met them a few paces ahead and Cooper and Lila barrelled into his arms, their words muffled as he pulled the two of them into a hug.

Slightly behind the two children and their father, the team spotted an emotional Laura Barton walking alongside Scott Lang and King T'Challa, who was accompanied by his personal guards Okoye and Ayo.

Tony stepped forward to greet T'Challa while Steve moved to greet Lang in order to offer some privacy to the family reunion happening to their left. Laura had caught up to Clint and the two were smothering their three children in a loving embrace.

Once official pleasantries had been done, they quickly moved inside. While it was not normal for any observes to see quinjet's come and go from the facility, they didn't want to have their meeting for anyone to see. If anything had been learned from the discovering of Hydra hidden within Shield, it was that just because someone was in your home, doesn't meant that they wouldn't burn it down.

Wanda, wanting to spend a few moments with Nathaniel-Pietro and the other Barton children, offered to show the children to their rooms with Pepper and Maria while the adults spoke about "work".

As soon as they had vanished along the corridor, Laura's eyes filled with concern. "How's Natasha?"

Clint grimaced. "What do you know?" He asked, looking between the new arrivals.

T'Challa spoke up. "The same as what we knew before you left, Agent Barton. Agent Romanoff had been injured and needed urgent medical attention." There was a brief pause before T'Challa continued. "I must confess, I am quite concerned as to her current predicament myself. I cannot help but feel partially responsible for it."

"With all due respect your Majesty, if you're thinking about playing the blame game; don't." Clint chided. "Natasha would've known that her actions had repercussions. You thought she was a danger to others; she wouldn't want you to blame yourself for trying to do what you thought was right. There are a lot of people we can blame for what happened to Natasha but the only person who deserves it is the person – or people – that hurt her."

The King bobbed his head in understanding as Laura spoke up. "You said that someone's hurt Natasha; do you know who?"

Tony sighed, sharing a glance with Rhodey. "We think so."

"So…" Laura was instant, looking among the Avengers with an expecting glare. Despite being afraid of what she was about to find out, she wanted to know. "Who was it?"

Clint tightened his grip on Laura's hand. "General Ross."

"With the help of some loyal dogs, no doubt." Tony spat, disgust marring over his features. "Ross has a lot of rank, especially at the Raft; there was no way he'd have been able to pull this all off without help. Hell, I designed the Raft and I had no idea that they'd be able to equip themselves with a super-secret torture dome."

"Isn't there a way you could get hold of any security footage from the Raft?" Scott asked, speaking up for the first time. "I mean, if you designed it you would have also designed the security, right? So, the rooms that Widow were held in might be rooms you designed, just put to a different use. If they had their original security measures in place, couldn't you just use those to get the footage?"

Sam looked at Scott like he'd never seen him before – and he wasn't the only one. Tony, seemingly stunned into silence, blinked twice before regaining use of his sense.

"Friday!" The genius called, turning and walking towards one of the conference rooms – tactfully avoiding the one that Ross had used to present them with the Accords. "Pull up the final specs for the Raft, pronto."

"You got it, boss." Friday replied, as everyone else began to file into the conference room. Within seconds the room was illuminated by the blue light streaming across the room as a 3D model of the raft came into existence before their eyes.

Turning to Steve, Tony gestured to the model. "Cap, when you broke the others out of the Raft was the layout the same as this?

Steve looked at the holding cells on the model before tracing back his steps on the night of the rescue. It was the same, the walls and the turns being the exact way he remembered them until…

"No." He answered.

Tony's jaw clenched. "What's different?"

Steve pointed to the model, where Tony's design showed three doors. Two of the doors led to a pair of interrogation rooms and the third to a store room. However, Steve's memory told him that there had been no doors there, just a single wall. He pointed out his findings and watched the mind of the man next to him whirl as the other's watched with bated breath.

"Friday, I need you to get into the camera feed for interrogation room three, Floor C."

"On it." The robotic voice replied.

Once again, there was a pause before the scree in front of them began playing footage. Whatever was behind that wall was empty, it looked almost like a plain hallway however there were a few doors along the side. Before Steve could ask what was behind them, Tony had already asked Friday to tap into the feed.

"Two interrogation rooms and a store room, boss."

Tony's brow furrowed and he glared at the model that was still displayed on the table. "I don't get it. That was in the original design, why change it all to add a simple hallway?"

He dropped into a chair and the rest of the team followed. Each one of them remained trapped in their own minds until Rhodey snapped his head up.

"Tony?"

"Rhodey? You okay?"

Ignoring the question, Rhodey continued. "What if it isn't about the hallway but instead about what's at the end of it?"

Steve sat forward, unsure of the point but interested in anything that might help. Tony however, seemed to connect instantly to the brainwave and began calling out for Friday to scan the hallway and to try and hack into any camera that wasn't put in the building by Stark industries.

Clint, unable to sit their quietly and desperate for something that would placate the fear in the back of his mind, spoke up.

"Do you want to catch up all up, Tony or do you want us to sit here twiddling our thumbs for the rest of the night?"

Tony rolled his eyes, his usual demeaner returning slowly. "There's an elevator."

Sam looked as confused as Steve felt. "So…Maybe they were too lazy to take the stairs. Not everyone is devoted to leg day, Stark."

The genius just continued. "The elevator isn't the big deal; the big deal is that I didn't design or commission an elevator in that part of the building which means someone else did. There was no need to separate the interrogation rooms unless there was something – or, more specifically – _someone_ that Ross wanted interrogated privately."

"Someone like Natasha?"

"Exactly. If I'm right – and I am – then that elevator is going to be the answer to all of our questions."

Laura looked both hopeful and confused. "How so?"

Pointing to the model, Tony spoke again. "The top floor to the Raft is the landing field, but the floor underneath it has one single room; the office of one General Thaddeus Ross."

Vision nodded. "Therefore, it would seem to be acting as a private elevator under the sole usage of the General himself – alongside any dedicated and loyal colleagues who would have access to his office."

"Bingo."

T'Challa hummed in agreement. "That would mean that the General could keep multiple prisoners locked within the Raft. Without any knowledge but that of a few men. Miss Romanoff may not have been the first person to be beaten behind those walls."

"She might not be the last," Steve stated, pushing down a shudder, "not if we don't do anything about it."

He wanted to do a lot about it – as did the others. Where tension made up of lingering awkwardness and supressed grief had been locked in the room before, there was now a heated itch forming under their skin; a want – no, a _need_ – for a fight, for vengeance. A need for justice for their friend pulling at their muscles and creating a churning in their stomachs.

Fortunately for them all, Wanda crept into the room. Instantly the mood calmed. "I could sense an increase in the tension. I took it to mean that you have discovered some answers?"

Clint threw a grateful smile Wanda's way before speaking. "The long and short of it is that Ross had his own personal torture chamber that he could use from his office."

The young woman grimace, coming to stand between Vision and Steve as she looked at the footage flickering on the screen. "This is where he kept Natasha?"

"Not quite," Vision replied, "We believe this may help us discover where Agent Romanoff was held before her escape. Since this was not in the original plan created by Mr Stark, there is reason to believe that another party was employed in order to fulfil the General's plan. If so, it is likely that the security measures that they input are connected to the same feed. By gaining access to these camera's we'll be able to hack into that feed and find footage that has been garnered by a different source of the same making."

Wanda nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly. After another second of silence, she pulled out a chair and sat down. Whether she was still using her powers, or if it was just desperation to make some movement, many of the others who had been standing followed her lead. Tony offered a brief command to Friday to notify them if anything was discovered before doing the same.

Steve dropped into his seat next to Sam, not realising that he had stood up in the first place. He looked to his right where Sam was, the man offered him a small smile before placing a hand on his shoulder. Steve was glad he had Sam, his unwavering loyalty and belief had carried Steve for a long part of the past six months on the run – and even longer if he included everything that had happened in DC. He smiled back, hoping that it conveyed even the smallest amount of gratitude that he was feeling.

On his other side sat Wanda, the young woman had her hands clasped in front of her with her fingers interlocked. Her numerous rings gleamed slightly underneath the lights and it was easy to recognise the one that Natasha had given her for her birthday. It was, according to Natasha, a simple gift. The ring rested on Wanda's fourth finger on her right hand and was there every day. It was round with thick interlocking loops – inscribed with a language that Steve suspected was Sokovian – that made a large triangle resting in the middle. Steve recognised it vaguely as a Celtic eternity symbol – while it was wasn't something he had seen often as his parents been more Gaelic in their heritage, he did recognise it from a bracelet that his mother used to wear, a gift she had been given before moving to Brooklyn.

Between the loops were three birthstones. One for Wanda's mother, a second for her father and then the third used to represent Pietro and Wanda herself. In the middle, within the smallest circle, was an intricate silver carving of a tree; a consistent reminder to Wanda that her family had left their roots in her and there was still a chance for her to flourish.

Noticing his observations, Wanda smiled and glanced proudly at her ring. Natasha may have made it seem like it was no big deal, but Wanda had been truly touched by her gift. It had been one of the few things that had made her feel accepted by the team in her greatest moments of doubt. Locking eyes with Steve, Wanda smiled.

An almost dismayed beeping sounded from above them and in unison everyone looked up towards the ceiling.

"What it is, Friday?" Tony asked, concern evident in his voice.

Friday seemed almost hesitant in her reply. "I found some footage, boss. But I've got to warn you; it isn't for the faint hearted."


	8. In Our Thoughts

_Hi all! Thank you for all the support; I know I don't reply to your reviews but I do read them. You've all really helped my confidence grow and I wanted to thank you for that._

 _Another update here. I was a bit reluctant to post this one as I wasn't really that sure about it. I've been wanting to move the story forward but I realised that it would be for the best to have an insight into how the characters are feeling. So, I decided to roll with it. This chapter starts leaning towards some Steve/Natasha so if you're here for that; enjoy! If not; apologies but that was how this was always going to go._

* * *

Wanda sat next to Natasha's bedside, a red haze dancing between her fingertips. Looking at Natasha, the young woman felt her heart ache at the abuse – the _torture_ – her friend had undergone while at the raft. She felt her stomach twist uncomfortably at the reality that Natasha had been so close to them. She'd spent days being beaten and tortured without any of her friends knowing the slightest thing – and, even worse, not doing anything about her absence aside from missing her passively without even thinking about actively doing anything to find her.

Feeling that weight in her heart, Wanda looked at the face of her friend. Even in her sleep, there was still an element of torment in Natasha's face. It was, considering the life she had lived before Shield and the Avengers, quite unlikely that there was even a moment where Natasha felt as though she was truly at peace.

Or safe.

Feeling shame burn its way through her bloodstream, Wanda moved her eyes away from Natasha and looked at her feet.

Watching the video of Natasha's time in captivity had left her feeling hollow. Whatever they had been expecting, it had left them all shaken.

* * *

 _Wanda looked at the screen, mouth open in horror. The video had just ended but its content had burned itself into her mind. She felt sick. She couldn't breathe._

 _A large thud followed by a sickening crack startled her out of her reverie. Moving her head sharply to the side, Wanda noticed Clint's bloody and bruising knuckles, his face contorted with rage. Next to him, Laura was pale faced and seated. Unlike everyone else in the room, she seemed locked in her chair. While she had known Natasha for years, Wanda was sure that this was the first time Laura had watched the red-head have her injuries inflicted as opposed to simply seeing the aftermath._

 _Laura had lived a life completely different to the rest of them; she had witnessed a lot being married to Clint and having Natasha and Shield filter in and out of her life. However, she had never seen anything quite like this before and it showed._

 _Glad that something could motivate her to get out of her own head, Wanda moved towards the Barton couple, doing her best to ignore the pale faces of everyone else in the room._

 _Placing her hand on Laura's shoulder, Wanda used the other one to gently take hold of the hand Clint had just pounded into the table. It was broken, that much was obvious. Looking at the man attached to it, Wanda doubted that it was the only thing._

" _Go to medical," she ordered softly, throwing a cautious look at Laura before dropping her voice into a harsh whisper, "and then take care of your wife – like Nat would want you too."_

 _The archer nodded, the anger on his face giving away to the same shame that Wanda knew matched the faces of many others in the room – herself included. Clint gently escorted Laura out of the room, the silence becoming even more suffocating in their absence._

 _Finding her courage, Wanda moved her eyes to meet the other occupants of the room. Looking at Vision, she moved to walk over to his side – finding comfort in his presence._

 _The person Wanda was most worried about was Steve, his face was pale, and his eyes shined with unshed tears. He was angry too, the clench in his jaw and the whiteness of his knuckles made that perfectly clear. He looked almost murderous. Shame, pain and burning rage fighting for dominance over his face. His shoulders seemed to be buckling under the weight of all his emotion and there was a moment where Wanda thought he was about to explode – or implode – before he turned on his heel and stormed out the room, the glass cracking as he slammed the door behind him._

 _Wincing, Wanda turned to Sam. His tension had melted away into concern for his friend and he met her gaze quickly._

" _Follow him." She ordered, ploughing on before he could challenge her. "He may not want you to, but he is in no state to be alone – Natasha would not want him to be alone right now."_

 _Sam deflated briefly before his unwavering loyalty kicked in and he sprinted away in the direction that Steve had gone barely stopping to squeeze Wanda's shoulder before he left._

 _Finally, it seemed like there was air to spare. Taking a deep breath, Wanda looked at Tony. His face was just as pale, and guilt ridden as everyone else and he seemed to be begging her to order him around the same way that she had the others._

 _Take control, find a solution; that's what Natasha would do._

" _This can be used as evidence, yes?" Wanda asked, jerking her head towards the screen._

 _Stark nodded, his own eyes avoiding the blank screen with a fervour._

 _T'Challa spoke up. "It'll certainly discredit General Ross; there can be no doubt of his co-operation in the torture that has befallen Agent Romanoff."_

 _Rhodey hummed in agreement. "We'll need to find out who those other soldiers were. If we can link them to Ross, then we'll have a stronger case for Natasha."_

 _Tony nodded and Wanda stood up straight. "Then do it." She turned to Vision, her gaze softening as she looked into his eyes. "Help them."_

 _He nodded, offering her hand a slight squeeze before turning to face the men left in the room. Scott, it seemed, was also on board but met Wanda's eyes with a curious look._

" _What are you going to do?" He asked._

 _The young woman paused, feeling her power shift through her body like a tidal wave morphing into a Tsunami. "_

 _I am going to see Natasha."_

* * *

So here she was. She had sent Peter on his way with a soft smile and a plea to have some time alone with her friend and he had agreed without any complaint.

Watching the energy dance between her fingertips, Wanda wondered if what she was about to do was going to violate the friendship between her and Natasha. A few days ago – a few hours ago, even – if someone would have asked her to look inside her friend's head; to go into Natasha's sacred space without permission, Wanda would have refused in an instance.

Yet if anything had grown clearer in their return, it was that the team needed Natasha. They needed her guidance and they needed to know that she was okay. The resent scans conducted by Cho and her team suggested that Natasha's brain activity was normal – whether she would have any psychological distress would only be shown by her waking up.

If she could put her plan into action, Wanda wouldn't be waking up the spy; no, that would be something that she would leave to nature. It would not do any damage – except perhaps to their friendship – for Wanda to probe around into Natasha's mind in order to gain some clarity from her friend and her thoughts.

Looking behind her, through to window and into the empty hallway, Wanda flicked her hand and jerked the blinds into a close. She closed her eyes and channelled her power into her hand before closing it around the still hand of her friend.

Moving through the bandages and the cuts, Wanda sought out a sign of Natasha's consciousness. Even the smallest fraction of her mind that regained a sense of clarity throughout all the pain that she had endured. Manoeuvring her way through the other woman's mind, Wanda fought to find a piece of the Natasha she knew and loved.

It felt almost hopeless until –

"Wanda?"

The bass tone of Natasha's voice reached her, softened by an undertone that was both curious and relieved.

Snapping her eyes open and pushing her power to the back of her mind, Wanda spent a moment just looking at her friend.

Natasha looked just like she had the last time Wanda had seen her; her hair was slightly longer, and she was wearing her favoured leather jacket and dark jeans instead of her uniform but the cuts and bruises that had been decorating her skin since Wanda's return to the compound had vanished.

Lacking all hesitation, Wanda strode over to Natasha and wrapped her in a tight hug. Relishing in the moment as the red-heads arms took hold of her in a comforting embrace.

"It's good to see you too, kid." Natasha sighed. "Or should I say remember considering that this is happening inside my head."

Suddenly sheepish, the dark-haired woman pulled back. "I'm sorry. I know I said I would never but..." She trailed off, a sob catching in the back of her throat. "I – We've – I've just missed you so much."

Natasha smiled, pulling Wanda back into the hug.

"I've missed you too. Don't worry; it's nice having company inside my head that likes me. That doesn't happen a lot around her." She joked, pulling back and taking a seat on a chair that Wanda hadn't noticed. There was no time for Wanda to comment before Natasha spoke again.

"I take it I'm still alive then?"

Wanda nodded, not quite meeting the questioning eyes that followed her movements as she took a seat next to Natasha.

"I'll take _that_ to mean that I'm not looking my best outside of this?"

The younger woman nodded.

"You take all this effort to come into my head and you don't want to talk to me? I'm offended." The way Natasha spoke made it seem as though the comment was supposed to come off as a joke, but Wanda could feel the sadness in the red-heads tone.

"I do want to talk!" Wanda protested. "I just…"

"Don't know what to say because the last time we spoke we were fighting against each other?" Natasha finished, taking a sip of a drink that had, it seemed, appeared out of nowhere.

"Yes," she confessed, "How do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?" Natasha replied innocently, raising her eyebrow slightly before allowing her lips to tilt upwards briefly.

" _That_." Wanda clarified, looking down towards the mug that had appeared in front of her. It replicated the one that she had used at the compound. A souvenir that Sam and Steve had brought back for her from a mission in the Ukraine. Seeing a ray of sunlight catch the rings on her finger, Wanda looked to the source and found herself recognising the surroundings. They were in Natasha's favourite place at the compound; a rooftop patio that had been, according to Natasha, Pepper's suggestion.

It had been a room that both Wanda and Natasha had been drawn too, Wanda like to watch the sun set and then linger for a few hours – and sometimes and entire night – to gaze at the stars. It was something she had started doing when Pietro died (albeit at the Tower at first) as a reminder that she had somehow managed to find enough things to occupy her day from sunrise to sunset. That she could make it from day-to-day without her twin by her side.

Natasha, on the other hand, had liked to watch the sunrise. Some nights, she would show up a few hours earlier after either returning late from a mission or because she could not find enough peace to sleep. When Wanda had asked Natasha why she liked to watch the sun come up, the older woman had just answered that it was a reminder that she had lived to see a new day but also that she had not yet become settled enough to take that knowledge for granted.

At first, Wanda had thought that was sad however the more she got to know Natasha the more she saw it as a balance between who Natasha was and who she was trying to become. By watching the sunrise, she had survived a day longer than she thought she would when she was a girl, she had spent a day moving further away from her villainous past, but she also had a new day to do better, to save more lives.

Spending a moment staring out at the setting sun – because of course Natasha had picked a view that reminded her of her friend rather than herself – Wanda looked at Natasha, expecting an answer to her question.

"It's…nice," Natasha began, moving her own eyes to look back out at the darkening sky, "to remember something better than all the pain that I've been through – that I'm still going through."

The spy sighed, slouching in her chair as though to sooth some of the pain that was blooming in her gut. "Sometimes I really hate being alone but here," she gestured to the grounds of the compound around her "is the least painful way to do it."

Shame hotter than a burning poker seethed its way through Wanda. "I'm sorry, Nat. We're all so, so sorry."

"I know." Natasha replied, but her eyes were hollow. Empty. Too buried under pain to really believe what Wanda was saying.

Wanda wanted to tell her that they were doing everything that they could to help, to make the situation better. It was true, they were, and they wouldn't stop until they found justice for Natasha, but Wanda knew, just as Natasha knew, that there was a large part of those actions that were being used as a balm over their own guilt for not being there in the first place. Instead of asking questions like she planned, Wanda decided to take the moment to place her friend first.

"Is there anything you want to know?" She asked, placing her hand on top of Natasha's and squeezing it. "You can ask me anything, I'll tell you what I know."

There was silence for a moment and Wanda wondered if Natasha was going to scream at her, throw her out of her head with a message of no forgiveness. It took a few more seconds before Natasha seemed to accept the olive branch – one of many that she would be receiving if Wanda had her way (not that Natasha Romanoff needed anyone to fight her battles).

"There was a kid – a boy – at the compound when I collapsed. Brown hair, terrified expression on his face; I think I scared him. Is he okay?"

It took a second or two before Wanda realised that the boy in question was Peter, but she wasted no time in answering. "He's fine. His name is Peter Parker – or Spiderman. He's actually been spending a lot of time by your hospital bed."

Natasha's lips quirked. "Sweet kid. Don't know if I'd have guessed he was the Spiderman from the airport, but I've seen a few reports on his work; he's a good guy. I can't believe he's so young."

Silence reigned once more as Natasha considered her next question. It was a few minutes before she settled on the one that she wanted to ask. "How is everyone?"

While surprised at the simplicity of it, Wanda took it in stride. "Not good, to be honest. We've all been worried about you. Stark called Steve as soon as Doctor Cho filled him in on your condition and we all came back as soon as we could – "we" meaning; me, Vis, Clint, Sam and Steve. Rhodey, Pepper, Happy and Peter were already at the compound with Tony and Hill, T'Challa, Scott, Laura and the kids have all showed up too. It was today that we all learned about what General Ross did to you."

Natasha looked surprised. "How did that go down?"

"Not well. Clint punched the table, Laura went into shock and Steve stormed off – Sam followed him but I he looked furious when I last saw him."

The spy's breath caught in her throat at the mention of Steve, but Wanda pretended not to notice, instead focusing her energy of being there to answer Natasha's questions.

"Stark and St-Cap are back on speaking terms then?"

"Not exactly." She admitted, ignoring the slip up. "They've just brokered a peace agreement for now. They need to hash it all out but neither of them wants to do it right now. They're both focused on finding out what happened to you."

Natasha offered a slow nod before moving onto her next question. "How's Rhodey?"

"Better. Stark built him a metal exoskeleton for his legs to give him full movement. He said it was hard, but he is adjusting."

"Good." The red-haired woman smiled. "He's a good man, he didn't deserve what happened to him. Are he and Sam okay?"

"They're fine. The situation was quickly forgiven and forgotten by both parties."

Again, the two women were left in silence, but it was the most comfortable one thus far. Spending a moment lost in her own thoughts, Natasha's smile widened considerably before she turned to Wanda, leaning forward in her chair. Her brow was raised making her expression look she almost…playful.

Suddenly, the younger woman felt as though she was under a spotlight. "What?" She asked hesitantly, almost fearful of the question that could get Natasha's smile that wide.

"Are you and Vision a couple yet?"

Instantly, Wanda felt her cheeks burning and turned her eyes to the floor, praying for it to swallow her whole. She wondered if she could avoid answering and prayed Natasha would be deterred by her reluctance.

No such luck. The spy leaned back with a triumphant look in her eye. "I'm taking that as a yes!"

Wanda's eyes snapped back up. "I never said it was a yes!"

"You never said it was a no. Frankly, I'm glad. The last thing I need is the two of you making heart eyes over my hospital bed. You kids keep that stuff confined to the bedroom – or the kitchen; whatever floats your boat."

"Nat!"

Wanda spluttered, trying to find a retort that would take the heat from her face. Eventually she gave in and let out a happy laugh that was quickly joined by her friend's soft chuckle. It felt nice, to be sitting in the place with her friend where they shared joyful memories and light-hearted teasing.

Natasha sighed, the weight dropping of her shoulders as she allowed herself to relax in her friend's company.

"How'd it happen then? You and Vision?"

A bashful smile appeared on Wanda's face. "He found me. And he stayed with me – or, _for_ me, I guess. He'd go back to help Stark sometimes, but he'd always come back. Even when I let him go."

Natasha swallowed harshly, her voice sticking in her throat. She was pleased for Wanda – and Vision – truly, she was. Yet she'd be lying if she said that the words didn't send a bolt of bitterness through her. She wondered what it would be like to have someone do that for her. To come back to her no matter how many times she let them go. No matter how many times she walked into the firing line. A part of her knew that what Wanda had told her about everyone being devastated by her condition was true – that was the rational part. The selfish part – _the wounded part_ – however, was desperate to not just know it, but feel it.

To feel loved.

And wanted.

By anyone.

Well, by S-

Pushing it all away, she plastered a smile on her face and turned back to the young witch at her side whose face was flushed with excitement now as opposed to embarrassment. Listening to what Wanda was saying, she found it easy to bring back her genuine happiness for her friend. It would be sad when Wanda left her. Hopefully, she'd be able to find the strength to stay in this part of her memories rather than slipping back into the darkness. At first, she'd felt as though she was floating; there had been nothing distinct around her but a clear weightlessness and pounding in her ears.

After a while it had become like something between a dream and a nightmare; she ended up spending a lot of time in her memories. Sometimes, when she grew tired and her body felt heavy, she'd go back to floating (if that was dying, Natasha imagined that she'd be able to be content with her ending).

Often though, she was stuck in her memories. Sometimes she'd be here, where she could exist at her own pace, pretending she was just waiting for a new day to begin at the compound. Sometimes she'd be accompanied by Wanda. A few times she was there beside Steve. Those days were some of her favourites, but they were a rarity.

Sometimes, she'd be at the Barton house, watching Cooper, Lila and – if she imagined hard enough – Nathanial grow up before her eyes. Clint and Laura would be there too, happy and smiling, knuckles intact and faces full of colour and happiness.

Once or twice, she'd ended up in Avengers tower training, fighting and living with the rest of the team like they had before Ultron.

Most of her memories were lived in the Red Room. Fingernails gone, feet bloodied. She danced her way through a massacre day after day. She'd felt like she'd been locked in her old body, her old mind. No way to escape except living the memory – or delirium, her mind had never been completely trustful over those times – to completion and praying that she'd be offered some respite afterwards.

She wondered sometimes how long she had been unconscious. There were times where she lived hundreds of days in what felt like minutes. A few times, she'd genuinely considered the fact that she might be dead. When Wanda had showed up, she'd wondered if Wanda was dead too and this was just what the afterlife was like.

It made her stomach twist guiltily to think that for a second, she had wished Wanda dead. She had wished that this was the afterlife, Wanda was dead, and she wasn't alone anymore. Together they could drink tea and watch the sun live and die while they waited for Vision and Laura and Clint and Steve to show up. They could wait and it would be fine. They'd have each other and they wouldn't be alone.

Then Wanda had rushed up to her and Natasha could just feel how _alive_ she was. How desperate and concerned she was for. How she was brimming with guilt and concern. She'd felt a slight pressure at her temple and brief pattern of coolness on her hand and she'd tried to ignore the feeling of her heart breaking again in such a short space of time.

Apparently, Wanda had caught onto her musings and had slowly ended her ramblings. She had her eyes on Natasha, brown orbs flooded with concern. Deciding that there was no point beating around the bush, Natasha went back to asking questions.

"How long are you going to stay?"

The girl paused, in all honestly, she hadn't thought about that. She didn't feel exhausted by her power yet, so she figured that she could stay for a while longer.

"I can stay as long as you need me to." Wanda stated, her back straightening in determination.

Natasha smiled gently. "No; you can't. Don't overexert yourself for my sake."

"I'll come back – if you want me too."

The older woman fell back in her seat, ignoring the question and offering her own instead. "How long have I been out?"

"A few days, you're still in critical condition – although you are improving."

Natasha looked Wanda dead in the eye. "I'm not saying this to upset you; I just want you to know that," she paused, waiting until Wanda motioned for her to continue before speaking, "if things don't start to improve and it becomes an option – or if I get too bad and saving me is just becoming a routine – I want you, no, I _need_ you to _let me go._ "

The dark-haired woman opened her mouth to protest but Natasha held her hand up before she could start.

"Listen, Wanda, I've spent most of my life knowing that all this pain I've been carrying – all this guilt and regret that I've kept bottled up inside – is only ever going to completely go away when I die. I don't like it. I'm not okay with it. But I've accepted it.

"Right now, I'm just stuck at this point where I'm living it all over again, completely aware of the fact that my life is moving in absolutely no direction. I'm dying, Wanda." Natasha paused, her voice cracking. "And I need there to be a point where I either get better or I go. It needs to _end_ , and someone must be there to end it. I don't want you or Clint, or Tony or Cap-"

"Steve!" Wanda shouted, moving forward to look at Natasha. "His name is Steve and ignoring that isn't going to take the pain away! He'd be devasted, Natasha. We all would."

Natasha sighed, her heart aching.

"I'm tired, Wanda." Her voice was breaking, the words catching in her throat. "I'm so tired and I just need to know that there will be a point where it will all just stop. Please, please, understand that."

Wanda sniffled and held Natasha's hand tightly in her own. "I do – I do understand that, but Natasha, we love you, we need you to be okay. Just hang in there, please. We're doing everything we can. We-"

She broke off, feeling a presence aside from her and Natasha enter the space. Natasha stood up, eyes narrowed and alert. Wanda rose beside her, trying to identify whoever had appeared.

The witch stumbled backwards, struggling at the strain of an unknown spectator. Natasha managed to push her into a chair before returning into a defensive stance.

There was nothing, no presence, no sound until…

"Nat?"

Whirling around, she saw Clint standing behind her. His expression was a mixture of confusion and relief, but it was only a few seconds before the latter gained control and he strode towards her in order to pull her into a fierce hug.

For a moment, Natasha allowed herself to be held by her friend before turning to look back at Wanda. Her face was pale, her eyes had closed, and she still couldn't seem to return to her feet.

"You okay, Wanda?" She asked, moving away from Clint to crouch beside the girl.

Wanda groaned before prying one eye open and looking at Clint. She gazed at him with an intent focus before the colour return to her face and she sat back up.

"I'm fine." Wanda turned to Clint and narrowed her eyes slightly. "Although some warning would have been nice."

Sensing the brisk tone of her voice, Clint raised his arms up in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, don't blame me. I came to wake you up; you looked like you were passed out next to Nat's hospital bed."

Not having any of the same hesitation or wonder that Wanda had arrived with; Clint dropped into an extra chair on Natasha's other side as the red-head slowly did the same.

"So how did you get here?" Natasha asked. "Not that I'm not happy to see you – I am, I really am – but is it safe for him to be here?"

Wanda nodded, moving her hands in a careless gesture. "It is fine. I may tire quicker than I would of before, but we should still have time. He must have placed his hand on ours," she could see Clint nod from the corner of her eye, "I must have brought him into the connection."

He nodded. "Where exactly are we? I mean, is this real?"

Natasha swivelled her head towards Wanda, and it wasn't hard to see the hint of fear that crept into her eyes at the idea that all of this was just another cruel dream.

"It's real; this is all happening inside Natasha's head, but it is a reflection of the interactions of our three minds."

Clint snorted before turning to Natasha, a wide grin spread on his face. "Wow, Nat. I always knew that there wasn't much going on inside your head – OUCH!"

He recoiled as the spy punched him swiftly in the ribs.

"Good to know that still hurts here."

The archer sat back in his chair, rubbing his side with a childlike frown.

"How's the hand?" Natasha asked, eyebrows raised.

The man in question brought his hand forward. While it wasn't damaged here, the flexing of his knuckles clearly still transmitted him some pain as he quickly stopped and placed his hand back down.

"Cho said that I'd broken some of my knuckles."

"Dumbass."

"Bite me, Romanoff."

"No thanks, I've been through enough."

Their banter continued, Wanda's small giggles breaking through occasionally. Secretly, the younger woman hoped that Natasha's interactions with Clint would give her back some confidence – as well as some hope.

Taking a back seat to the conversation, Wanda felt the tiredness begin to creep forward. Natasha and Clint had moved on to talk about Laura and the Barton children – Clint seemed to take the hint that Natasha was not quite ready to go hear more about the other Avengers now. Natasha had seemed relieved by the idea that Laura had calmed down – She'd left for bed while Clint had decided to go and try to wake Wanda – but was positively thrilled – in her own way – by the idea that Lila had decided to take a few ballet classes and little Nathaniel had been trying his best to copy some moves – albeit on shaky legs.

"I guess the little traitor is finally coming over to the winning side."

Clint scoffed. "Don't get comfortable, Romanoff. I'll have a bow and arrow in his hands by Christmas."

Natasha chuckled. "Then Laura will have you buried by the New Year."

Wanda grinned. "She'll have your bow and arrow burnt on a pyre."

The archer grimaced, his face contorted in horror at the idea of his precious weapon being destroyed. "Maybe I'll wait until Easter. Give him some secret lessons before we show Laura."

The two women shared a smile, rolling their eyes in unison as silence fell over them. Since Wanda had arrived, this was the first time she could say that Natasha seemed truly content; her shoulders had relaxed and there was a small smile lingering on her face. There was a second where she wondered if it had been unfair to do this; to show up only to leave again. Yet, if she were being honest, she knew that Natasha had needed this visit more than anything. She had needed some sign that she wasn't alone. That they cared and that they were fighting for her.

As the exhaustion began to settle in her bones, Wanda wondered how she would tell Natasha – and Clint – that it was time to pull away. She had just begun to think about how to form the words when Natasha herself turned to face her.

"You need to leave; you're exhausted."

Wanda sat forward. "How did you know that?"

"I'm a spy, I notice everything." Natasha replied cryptically. Wanda just continued to look at her before she rolled her eyes and answered. "You've yawned six times in the last ten minutes."

Clint, taking the que, moved over towards Natasha and pulled her into another hug. In the silence, Wanda could hear him whispering.

"Just hold on for us, Tasha, please. Cho's doing everything she can for you."

Pulling back, the two partners shared a look before entering a brief hug. Stepping to the side, Clint allowed Wanda to have her moment with Natasha.

Throwing her arms around her friend, Wanda didn't know what to say. She'd come wanting answers to questions but had ending up doing her best to offer Natasha some peace and clarity instead.

"Thank you." Natasha broke the silence, her grip tight on Wanda. "For coming, I mean. I needed that."

"I'll come back as soon as I can." Wanda promised, her voice clear despite the tears welling in her eyes. "I promise."

"I meant what I said, Wanda."

"But-"

Natasha sighed. "I'll try to hold on, I will – I promise. I just don't want you all living your lives around me. Spend some time with Vision and Nathanial. Get Tony and Ca- _Steve_ to pull their heads out their asses and _talk_. Just don't spend your life waiting on mine."

Tears fell down Wanda's cheeks and she didn't know what to say. Pulling back, Natasha rubbed her thumbs along the younger girls' cheeks; banishing the tears from her face.

"You'll be okay, Wanda. You all will."

"What about you?"

Natasha shrugged, pulling on her mask of indifference. "I'm the Black Widow; I'm always okay."

Not wanting to fight, both Wanda and Clint hugged Natasha again before stepping back. Taking Clint's hand in her own, Wanda offered Natasha a smile before she closed her eyes and pulled the two of them back into their own minds.

* * *

At first there was silence until the beeping and humming of the hospital machines began to enter her ears. Still, she kept her eyes close and her hand tightly on Natasha's even as she felt Clint remove his own and place it on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Swaying slightly in her seat, Wanda opened her eyes and looked at him. Despite the own ache she was feeling in her heart, it was almost nice to see the same anguish reflected in Clint's eyes. It made her feel less alone. Offering the hand under her own a final squeeze, Wanda slowly rose to her feet before answering Clint's question.

"Not really. You?"

He tried to smile, but it was as empty as they felt. "Not really."

In unison, they both turned to look at Natasha again. While her condition was still terrible, there was a moment where she looked almost relaxed. In an exhale, it was gone, and Natasha had returned to her previous state. While it was only brief, Wanda's heart lightened considerably at the idea that their visit influenced Natasha.

"She looked peaceful." Clint admitted, breaking the silence with a soft whisper. "When I thought you were asleep, and I came to wake you – she looked more peaceful then I'd seen her in a long time."

A smile tugged at her lips. "Then we'll just have to make sure we go back."

He nodded but said nothing.

"Are you going to tell Laura?" Wanda asked.

Once again there was a pause as Clint debated his answer.

"I think so." He admitted. "I don't want to get her hopes up because, medically, I don't think anything has changed. But I think she deserves to know. I think Nat would want her to know after the day she's had. Laura's was the first friend Natasha had that wasn't a part of the espionage game; there's a part of Tasha that has always wanted to keep her away from it all."

"Do you know who's supposed to sit with her next?"

"I think it was supposed to be Steve, but I don't know if he's back yet."

Wanda paused. "Do you think we should tell him about...?"

"Wait and see how he is when he gets back."

She nodded, that seemed like the best idea. Before she could open her mouth to agree, however, she let out a giant yawn.

Clint chuckled. "Come on, you need to get to your room before you pass out."

"Do you think we should leave her on her own?"

The man's face softened. He looked between Wanda and Natasha. "I'll ask one of the nurses to sit with her until I find someone else. Now come on, you look like you're about to pass out."

Not waiting for a reply, Clint steered Wanda out of the room only stopping to ask one of the nurses to stay alongside their friend.

* * *

Meanwhile, a few miles outside of the compound, Sam had finally managed to catch up to Steve. The man he was chasing had – thankfully – stopped but had instead dropped himself onto a fallen tree and sat there, back hunched and fists clenched. The closer he came, the easier it was for Sam to notice that Steve was shaking.

He knew that nothing his said would be able to make his friend feel better so rather than offering false promises and empty reassurance, Sam simply dropped onto the log and placed his hand of the shoulder of the man next to him; offering nothing more than an ear to listen to his woes.

Seemingly folding in on himself, Steve let out a chocked breath. "I should have gone back."

Sam shook his head. "You couldn't have known."

"Then I should have taken her with me when Buck and I left Leipzig. I knew that she'd be in danger and I left her anyway."

"She wouldn't have gone, man. It's Natasha; she knew what she was getting into when she let you go. If she had wanted to leave with you then she would have. She didn't want to run from a fight."

Steve, so intent on trying to a share of the blame, shook his head. "When we left the raft, I should have looked for her. T'Challa had told us that she wasn't with Tony; I should have tried to find her, and I never did."

"No, you didn't." Sam admitted. "But neither did the rest of us. Natasha is our friend and we assumed that she would be okay because she's Natasha. We didn't know, Steve. We couldn't have known what was going to happen. Yeah, we should have tried to look for her. We should have found a way to make sure that she was okay. That's on _us_. Not just on you."

The blonde said nothing, getting on his feet to pace up and down.

Relieved that he wasn't going to have to pick up chase again, Sam leant back against the log and let out a deep breath. The truth was, there was nothing that he could say that would make Steve feel better. After knowing the soldier for a few years, Sam knew that the only person who could absolve Steve of any of his heartache would be Natasha.

There was, for the moment, nothing left to say until Steve began to speak.

"Do you think she hates me?"

Sam paused. "I don't think Natasha could ever hate you. She might be a little pissed, and more than a little hurt, but no, I don't think she hates you."

"Even after the Accords?"

"She came to see you, didn't she? It wasn't the disagreement between you that she cared about, Cap."

Steve turned to Sam, a question was clear in his eyes. "What did she care about then? I remember her at the airport, she looked..."

He remembered the look on her face clearer than anything.

* * *

 _Steve looked in front of him at Tony. The man in front of him looked as though he would do anything to prevent him and the rest of his newly christened group of fugitives – Bucky especially – back into captivity._

 _He couldn't allow that to happen._

 _Not only for Bucky's sake; he knew that T'Challa was going for blood. He needed to protect the world from the harm that could be caused by more Winter-Soldier like assassins. Fighting against Bucky when he was absent of his humanity had been one of the most difficult fights of his life. Regardless of the emotional difficulties, the Winter Soldier had an endurance level and skill set that went in for the kill. While his Shield training had allowed him to refine his skillset over the last few years, there was a ferocity in the Winter Soldiers skillset that could only be matched by a bloodlust that came from having zero remorse._

 _Letting the Soldiers stored in Siberia free would subject God knows how many people to unknown travesties. No, he couldn't allow that to happen. No matter what it took, he needed to get to Siberia with Bucky and the team so that they could capture the man responsible and prevent the release of the other Soldiers._

 _He tried to tell Tony, but he refused to listen. While fighting Tony was not something he wanted to do, he knew that he would have to in order to get to the quinjet. He'd do whatever it took; he'd fight whoever he needed too._

" _Steve…"_

 _The Captain whipped his head around to see Natasha walking towards him from behind. Meeting her eyes, he tried to plea with her to not interfere. He didn't know if she had heard his claim about the other Winter Soldiers – although he assumed that she had because nothing ever got past Natasha. If anyone could understand how important it would be to put a stop to them, it was Natasha. She had been on the receiving end of violence perpetrated by the Winter Soldier multiple times. He had shot her twice in Odessa and D.C. Plus, if the bruises on her neck were anything to go by, Bucky's earlier lapse in control had put her in danger._

 _It was harder to ignore that. He couldn't just turn around and pretend like he couldn't see the danger that Bucky posed but he wasn't about to let his friend become incarcerated for something he hadn't done._

 _Natasha looked at him, her eyes wide and earnest. "You know what's about to happen."_

 _He did, he knew the moment he had ordered the others to suit up. Judging by both Tony and Natasha's attire, they were both running along the same strand._

 _It was clear that both teams were about to make their allegiances clear. The lines were about to be drawn._

 _Still in front of him, Natasha's glance remained unwavering and underneath the steeliness that she wore on the surface it was clear to see that there was something else behind her gaze. The Avengers were all that she had; they were her family. If there were no Avengers – which was steadily becoming the underlying threat – then there would be nothing left here for Natasha. She would have to run, fast and far, to prevent a net from falling over her._

 _There was no point, he knew, in trying to change her mind. Natasha was a force to be reckoned with at any time, but she would fight her hardest to protect what she believed in – and she believed in the Avengers, regardless of any looming Government constraints._

 _He thought back to their moment at Peggy's funeral. How she had relived to him what had happened to her during the fall of Shield. He had felt awful for her as she had revealed that going back to Russia to try and retrace her routes had only brought her back to more death and heartache. Not one for sympathy, Natasha had simply looked at him and said; "We have what we have when we have it."_

 _Right now, it was clear to see that all Natasha had was the Avengers. Now lying in wait on the consequences of his actions, he knew that what he was about to do might be the death of the team. If things went the way that he was hoping, Tony's team would be unable to catch them, and Ross would dismantle the Avengers completely until such a time when the accords called for them. The team as he and Natasha had led it would be gone._

 _Exhaling, he tried to send his apologies to Natasha through his eyes. He could see the moment when she realised that he wasn't going to stop. As he watched the breath catch in her throat, he could see a flash of pain in her eyes before she covered it with her Black Widow exterior._

" _Do you really want to punch your way out of this one?"_

 _He didn't. He really didn't. It was the last thing he wanted, he knew that it would cost him everything he had built for himself since he had woken up from the ice, but he also couldn't stand by and let Bucky take the fall for a crime he didn't commit._

 _He didn't want to hurt Tony. Despite the tenderness of their friendship it did run deep, and Steve was grateful to the other man for everything he had done. It wasn't fair that this is what would define the rest of their interactions – if there ever was any – but he couldn't let his friendship with Tony blind him to what was the right course of action. If Tony wasn't going to believe that Bucky had been set up, then Steve would fight him to prove it._

 _What he hated most about this whole ordeal though was that he didn't want it to be the end of him and Natasha. Between D.C and Ultron, his search for Bucky had stopped them from growing any closer but after he had asked her to stay and lead the new team with him, they had returned to their easy comradery. He'd become more attached to Natasha than anyone else; her experience and drive had taught him then he thought he would ever learn. Together they had managed to forge a partnership that had created a sense of unity between the whole team._

 _Looking at Natasha, there was nothing that he wanted more that to beg for her to just listen to him, to believe him. He wanted her to fight with him, to stay by his side._

 _Instead, however, the resigned look switched from his face to hers and he understood that regardless of how they felt, they were both here to fight for what they believed. He wouldn't ask her to change and he knew that, while she did ask, she would never expect or criticise him for remaining just as steadfast._

 _Turning back to Tony, he heard the other man say. "You're going to come with us – because it's us!"_

 _Us. Tony and Natasha._

 _Two of the closest friends he had made in this life. Two friends so different yet so like himself. People who he had judged, harshly, when their views on morality hadn't quite lined up with his._

 _Two people who had strived to great lengths to prove him wrong. The first sacrificing his life in order to throw a nuclear bomb through a wormhole. The second offering to give up everything she had strived to protect, painting a target on her own back, in order to save the lives of twenty-million people._

 _Two heroes._

 _He wished that he could go with them, that he could explain and that everything that had happened so far could be washed away. He wished he could go back to having his benign disagreements with Tony. He wished that he could spent the rest of his days in partnership with Natasha. He wished it was that simple._

 _It wasn't._

 _He'd have to prove that Bucky was innocent; that he hadn't caused the bombing in Vienna._

 _To do that, he'd have to fight._

 _He fought._

 _Later, the end had finally been in sight. He and Bucky were in the clear. It would be hard to leave the rest of the team behind, but he knew that they had already wasted enough time. By now, the other Winter Soldiers could be close to being awakened._

 _They needed to go, now._

 _Running clear of the rubble, Steve's shoulders dropped when he saw Natasha, armed and ready, standing in front of the quinjet._

 _Despite knowing that the best thing to do would be to raise his shield, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Next to him, Bucky remained still calmly following his lack of movements._

 _Natasha looked at him, offering him no pretences. "You're not going to stop?"_

 _He sighed, begging her to believe him. "You know that I can't."_

 _To an untrained eye, there were no movements that offered any signal to whether Natasha believed anything that she had said. When he looked at her, he was sure for a moment that he caught something in her eyes that seemed like longing._

 _For the next few moments the soldier and the spy stared at each other; both pleading for the other to try to understand. A sigh from Natasha broke the silence and she looked at Steve with remorse._

" _I'm going to regret this." She muttered, raising her arm._

 _Staring at her Widow's Bites, now pulsing with electricity, Steve made no move to fight back. He couldn't. Anyone else he would fight but not Natasha. Not after everything they had been through together. He trusted her, he trusted her judgement, and if Natasha Romanoff thought that the best thing to do would be to put him – and by extension, Bucky – into custody then he wouldn't fight her on it._

 _Pressing the release on her gauntlet, Steve tensed for impact._

 _It didn't come._

 _Instead, he heard the gasp of pain from behind him and turned to see King T'Challa, the Black Panther suit had a familiar blue glow and Steve could hear the crackling of electricity._

 _He turned back to Natasha, a shocked expression on his face._

" _Go." She ordered, softly._

 _Looking at her, Steve saw the heartache behind her eyes. As far as the Government would be concerned, Natasha had just broken the accords. Add on to that whatever the consequences were of shooting a bolt of electricity at a King and Steve knew that Natasha Romanoff had just placed a final nail in the coffin of her heroism. With Shield gone, the biggest chance Natasha had to make a difference – to find her peace – was with the Avengers._

 _And she had put it all on the line to help him._

 _There was a desperate urge to ask her to come with them. To come with him and Bucky to Siberia and help them put and end to the Winter Soldiers once and for all. He wanted to ask her to follow him; to run away with him._

 _To be his partner._

 _He didn't._

 _Part of him knew that it was unlikely that she would agree. Natasha wouldn't want to run away from the consequences of her actions. Maybe once she would of, but she was a changed person since her defection. Furthermore, he knew that she would want to defend her actions. Not only to Tony, who would undoubtedly feel betrayed, but also to Ross and the UN; both of whom would probably be baying for her blood once T'Challa told them what she had done. Still, whether she ended up broken and bruised in the aftermath, Natasha Romanoff wouldn't run away._

 _Deciding that he would only compromise his integrity, Steve moved past Natasha with Bucky close on his heels._

 _The last time Steve Rogers into Natasha Romanoff's eyes he felt the look on her face burn itself behind his eyes. Rather than saying anything that placed them both in any more danger, he offered her nothing more than a nod of thanks before leaving her and an irate King in his wake._

* * *

Coming out of his memory, Steve noticed Sam looking at him. There wasn't much to say.

"It could have been so different." Steve sighed.

Sam nodded, conceding his point. "True. The thing is, Cap, is that it's too late to go back and change it. We just have to deal with what happened."

Sam was right. As much as he may have wanted to blame himself for what happened to Natasha, there wasn't much he could do aside from deal with the consequences. Of course, in his mind the consequences involved punching General Ross in the face and grovelling to Natasha, but regardless of what they turned out to be, they had to see it through.

For Natasha, they would see it through.


End file.
